


The Follow Through

by Emily Waters (missparker)



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Alternate History, Babies, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-17
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2017-10-07 08:43:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missparker/pseuds/Emily%20Waters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe, ultimately, they are just good people who have done some bad things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place during the first season of American Idol and proposes an alternate version of what happened. I started writing it last summer with the idea of writing something that usually turns out to be badfic or crackfic - what if someone wrote a story where Paula got pregnant that wasn't totally horrible or unrealistic? That dealt with the downsides of being unmarried, single, and over 40?
> 
> The summary comes from 'Hour Follows Hour' by Ani Difranco. Sort of.
> 
> Thanks to Tina who let me bounce all my cracked out ideas off her and told me when it was awful and when it was not.

_"Being brokenhearted is like having broken ribs. On the outside it looks like nothing's wrong, but every breath hurts."_ \- Greg Behrendt

*

Paula sat on the edge of the tub and waited. The bathroom was quiet except for two noises – her breathing and the mechanical tick of the egg timer that sat on the edge of the sink. She knew she should try to keep herself busy – just sitting and waiting was making the time unbearable. But she couldn't seem to move. All she could manage to do was let the seconds tick and tick away until…

The timer popped and was silent. Paula exhaled slowly. She pushed herself to her feet and ignored the sharp pain in her neck, the rush of blood to her face. It was time to look. Her hands shook so much that she accidentally knocked the timer to the floor where it broke into two pieces on the tile. It was cheap plastic and so she drew the time out by bending over to pick it up and dropping it in the garbage between the sink and the toilet. Then she stood up.

She picked up the plastic stick preparing herself to look and see either scenario play out but she needn't have bothered. She already knew the stick would tell her exactly what she was expecting. And when she finally looked down at it, the answer stared back at her, as clear as day. The two pink lines were definite and solid. They left absolutely no room for doubt.

She felt dizzy and quickly lowered herself down onto the closed lid of the toilet.

Really, though, it explained so much. She'd been so tired lately, and sore. Her joints, her limbs ached and her breasts were tender to the touch. She was over a week late.

Her first urge was to call her sister but she pushed that feeling away. There wasn't any use in telling anyone until she went to the doctor. There was a doctor out in Palm Desert who treated the celebrities that didn't want their visit to hit a news cycle. This doctor operated out of a day spa. Paula would make an appointment there and call it a day of pampering. That's what she would do.

And if the doctor confirmed what the test had already told her?

One day at a time.

oooo

Instead of fighting, they just didn't speak. So early in the development of the show, going to work consisted mostly of sitting in production meetings. There were things that would carry over from Pop Idol, of course, but things would have to change also. She sat next to Randy Jackson, one of the only familiar faces in the room. Simon Fuller and Nigel Lythgoe stood at the head of the table and across from her sat a quiet Ken Warwick and…

She couldn't quite look at him.

At the lunch break, Paula went out and stood in the small courtyard of the office complex. She wanted to sit in the sun for a few minutes. She wanted to be alone.

But soon, Randy appeared holding a bottle of water and a salad for her.

"Want to come in and eat?" he asked. She wasn't hungry but the doctor had been explicit in her nutrition instructions. Paula needed to put on weight and needed to eat at least three meals a day.

"I think I'll stay out here," she said, and took the food from him with a murmured thanks. Randy sat down, the wooden bench creaking slightly under his weight.

"You and Simon seem to be getting along a little better," he commented. Paula flushed and tried to hide it by lowering her head and prying the plastic top from her meal.

"We've been ignoring each other," she said, finally.

"For you two?" Randy laughed. "That's progress."

"I'm having second thoughts about the show," she said.

"Come on," he said. They'd had this conversation again and again. She had doubts and he convinced her to stay.

"Jeff says it isn't too late to get out," Paula said.

"Is it Cowell?" Randy asked. "What did he say to you?"

"No," Paula said, maybe too quickly. "I just haven't been feeling well and I don't know if I can handle the audition schedule they're proposing. Plus, you know, maybe I'm just not right for this show."

"We'll add in more travel days," Randy said, ignoring the last part of her statement. "Come on, P, don't leave me here alone with these guys."

She smiled at him and poked at the salad with her plastic fork halfheartedly. She took a bite, but the food just didn't taste like anything.

"Please don't make a choice you'll regret," he pleaded.

It was a little too late for that.

oooo

She stood in the shower, wondering how long, exactly, she could get away without mentioning anything to anyone. Spring was coming fast and with spring meant hitting the road. She wouldn't be showing for the audition episodes, but by the semifinals? Maybe. And by the final shows, definitely. Maybe no one would watch the auditions and the show would get canceled before they even made it to the live tapings. She could dream, at least.

She looked down at her body, the warm water hitting her at the collarbones and then running over her breasts to her flat stomach. It was flat now, but inside there was a secret that wouldn't stay kept for long.

At any rate, she needed to confide in someone. As a human being, she needed to tell her mother or her sister. As a professional she needed to tell her manager. As a woman, she needed to tell the father.

She shut the tap off forcefully and stood, dripping and starting to chill. She would deal with those problems when she came to them and until then, she would hold her cards close to her chest. She toweled off carefully and then moved to her bedroom and sat on her mattress, gathering her strength. Outside, it was raining – a rare wet day in Los Angeles. She was supposed to drive to Inglewood to meet with her lawyer about song rights, but she was going to cancel. Or, rather, reschedule. She couldn't face to rain and two hours talking about legalities and royalties.

She got dressed and went downstairs to survey her kitchen. Her housekeeper had gone to the market the day before, so her refrigerator was well stocked, but standing in front of the open door of the refrigerator nothing seemed appealing. It wasn't that she wasn't hungry, it was just that she was worried and stressed out and that rarely led to thinking about eating.

Still, there was something inside her now, a force of life that depended on her and as scary and stupid as this whole situation was, as careless as she had been, it was her responsibility to care for herself now. To care for anything that might be inside of her.

It was easy enough to fix a sandwich. Paula was, by no means, a gourmet chef but she'd never retained a cook. Mostly, she ate dinner out and skipped breakfast all together. For lunch, she made sandwiches or salads or seared some fish in a pan. Now, she'd have to alter her routine a little. No more fish, no more soft cheeses, no more caffeine. And, perhaps most heartbreakingly, no more sushi. She looked down at her stomach again and then away quickly.

She had yet to really think about anything past the surprise and trauma of the situation. She'd thought briefly about the next nine months but what about after that? Gaining weight she couldn't hide was not exactly the mostly lasting of consequences she was going to have to face, but at the moment it was the one thing that seemed the worst.

Halfway through eating her sandwich standing over her kitchen sink, her phone rang. She glanced over at the dock on the counter expecting to find it empty. She was always searching for that cordless phone – lost it enough that she was considering buying one of those phones that mounted on the wall and had a long, curly cord just so she could find the thing, tackiness be damned. But, fate smiled on her and the phone was in its proper place. She picked it up, not bothering to glance at the caller ID. Anyone who had this number was welcome to call. The phone in the office was another story.

"Hello?" she said, leaning her hip against the counter. Outside, the lawn was damp and the sky was still gray, though the rain had quit for the time being.

"Paula?" She knew the voice. "This is Simon." A pause. "Simon Cowell."

"What do you want, Simon?" she asked, intuitively turning her body against the counter, as if to hide her torso even though she was alone in the kitchen.

"I think we should talk," he said. How had he even gotten this number? Someone would pay.

"I don't really want to," she said. She hoped her voice didn't betray her fear or that she didn't speak too quickly. They would have to talk, but not so soon.

"We need to be able to work along side one another," Simon said, forced patience evident in his tone. "I think perhaps sitting down together might, ah, clear the air?"

"As I recall, we tried that and it didn't quite work out like we planned," she said. She didn't mean to sound so biting and perhaps she should acknowledge that he was reaching out at all, but even speaking to him for this short amount of time was already dissolving her resolve. She could feel the secret crawling up her throat, clawing for escape.

"We're both professionals," Simon said. "At least I am."

She scoffed.

"I think we owe it to each other to find a way to make this work."

She closed her eyes and took a breath. What could she say to him?

"Fine," she said. "I'm free today."

"Great," he said. "I'll arrange for a lunch reservation. My assistant will call you back in a bit."

"No seafood," she said. Simon paused for a minute.

"Fine," he said, before hanging up without a goodbye. She looked down at the phone in her hand and then slowly replaced it in the cradle. She didn't bother finishing the sandwich – in an hour she'd be seated in a restaurant with Simon Cowell across from her. What would he say?

What they had done – it still felt like a dream. More like a nightmare. Paula was still horrified with herself, still hazy with disbelief at her own actions. She wasn't the type of woman to make choices without considering the consequences – which wasn't to say she didn't jump into things with both feet, but she always thought about how it would affect others and this time she just hadn't done that. She'd done something without thinking at all and now she was dealing with all the problems that came along with rash behavior.

Paula expected to go to the Ivy or some other celebrity-friendly hot spot, but instead she found herself driving to somewhere she had never been before. It wasn't exactly her type of restaurant – it was a dark steakhouse, an old boys club with wooden paneling on the walls and the smell of cigar smoke lingering in the upholstery even though no one had smoked inside for years. It was, however, secluded which she appreciated. When she walked in, a maitre d' took her trench coat and showed her to her table immediately. The place wasn't very populated, but the patrons who were there were older gentleman in business suits drinking scotch and having serious conversations. And then, in the corner, Simon Cowell reading the L.A. Times and drinking what looked to be like a gin and tonic while he waited for her.

She had butterflies in her stomach at the sight of him – she'd had them from the start but now they beat relentlessly against her ribcage and she felt a little light headed. The maitre d' helped seat her, but Simon still stood halfway, hovered over his chair for a moment before settling back into his seat.

"You look nice," he said in greeting. She raised an eyebrow.

"Really?"

"You look tired," he amended.

"What do you want, Simon?" she asked.

"Do you want something to drink?" Simon asked. As he did so, their server appeared at the table, her pen poised above a pad of paper expectantly. There were no introductions of any sort. Most servers told Paula their name, but Paula suspected Simon had already instructed this girl to do nothing but take orders – preferably from him.

"Club soda," Paula said. Simon frowned slightly but didn't say anything. The server nodded and left.

"They have an amazing porterhouse here," Simon said, picking up his menu. "You like steak, don't you?"

She didn't really. She wasn't much of a meat eater at all, and only fish and chicken when she did, but suddenly a steak sounded fantastic. Paula had been nervous about the list of nutritional needs the doctor had provided for her but her doctor had smiled.

"Your body will tell you what it needs," she'd said. Now, Paula found herself nodding at Simon.

"Whatever is fine," she said. "If you want to sit here and eat together like nothing is wrong."

"That's awfully dramatic," Simon said. The server returned with Paula's club soda, garnished with a wedge of lime. "Two porterhouses, darling. Medium."

"Medium well, for me," Paula interjected.

"Right away," the server said, and turned on her heel, headed back to the kitchen.

"It's going to be too tough," Simon warned, as if he were some sort of culinary expert instead of a record executive.

"I prefer my meat not to still be alive on my plate," she said coolly.

"Suit yourself," Simon said.

"I will, thanks."

Simon looked at her, a smirk on his face.

"You absolutely loathe me, don't you?"

"No," she said. "Yes. I don't know. I'm… confused."

"Do you want to know my opinion?" he asked.

"Do I have a choice?"

"I think there was some tension and we needed to figure out a way to work together. We just… broke the tension. No harm, no foul, we move on and make a boatload of money."

He was so blasé about it. She stared at the cloth napkin in her lap, feeling the heat rise into her cheeks. No harm, no foul? Not quite.

"Why," he said with a big sigh, "do I get the suspicion you aren't a move on sort of girl?"

"It's just…" She wanted to tell him but she couldn't seem to form the words. A public place, even one that was semi-private, was no way to tell someone a secret that was going to completely change their life. "My actions were… I don't ever do that."

"Do what?" he asked. He was trying to make her say it.

"You're practically a stranger," Paula said. "I don't even know you, I certainly don't trust you. But I do think you're right. We found a unique way to relieve some tension and now it's over." She brought her straw to her mouth and sipped lightly, trying to bring the subject to a close and swallow down the lie.

"I'm not a stranger," Simon said. "At least not anymore. Even if we don't ever… relieve the tension… again, I would like it if we could at least be friends."

"I could never be your friend," Paula said. "Let's not set unattainable goals for ourselves. We can be colleagues who try not to fight."

"If that's what you want," Simon said. "You know, it could've been nice sitting next to someone pleasant and beautiful while being on TV, but if you want cool indifference, I guess I'll take it."

"Oh you'll be sitting next to someone pleasant," Paula said. "I'm the one who has to suffer."

Simon was saved having to reply because the server returned with their steaks, setting the hot plates in front of them. The cut of meat was enormous and Paula stared at it. There was no way she'd be able to eat it all, let alone the mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables that came as sides.

"Actually, can I get this to go?" Paula asked.

"Sure," the server said.

"No," Simon said, sternly. "It's here, you might as well eat it. Don't go, don't run off."

"Fine," she said. She did want to run off for every moment she sat there, the guilt became heavier and heavier on her shoulders. She was looking at a man with whom she didn't get along with, whom she barely tolerated, but who was going to be a part of her life forever, whether he knew it yet or not.

She cut into the steak, making sure it wasn't as pink as the one across from her, and took a wary bite. It was good and hit the spot. Simon ate quietly so she took his cue, putting bite after bite into her mouth.

"Good lord, where did you put it all?" Simon asked, looking at her plate. The steak was gone, as were her veggies and half of her potatoes. "You're minuscule." Simon's steak was only half gone and he was already showing signs of slowing down.

"I guess I was hungry," Paula said, just as surprised.

"Are you one of those women who eat everything in sight and then whine about how they can never put on weight?" he asked, disgustedly.

"No," she said. "Actually, I struggle with my… how is it you know nothing about me?"

"I know enough," Simon said and his tone wasn't exactly kind. "You were a pop princess – silver platters and number one records. Then time passes and tastes change, but you didn't, did you? Now, here we are ten years later and instead of being the one selling records you've decided to recapture your fame on reality television."

"As I recall, you called me and begged me to be on your little show," Paula said, throwing her napkin down on her plate. "Try making it with only Randy Jackson and Simon Cowell. No one will watch because no one knows or cares who you are."

"You're not the only has been pop star looking for a comeback, you know," he threatened.

"I hope you enjoy buying me out of my contract," she said. "It's not going to be cheap."

He took a deep breath, fisted his napkin on the table. "Look, I didn't ask you here to fight."

"Could've fooled me," she seethed.

"I'm serious, the last time we fought we…"

"I know," she said, raising her hand to stop him. "That was unprofessional and it will never happen again."

"Is that what you want?" he asked. "To be colleagues and nothing more?"

"Nothing more," she repeated.

"All right," Simon said, taking his credit card out of his wallet and tossing it on the table. "But it's a shame."

"What is?" she asked, frightened to hear his answer.

"I thought we had real chemistry," Simon said. "People do learn to like me. Given enough time."

Time, unfortunately, was something Paula felt she didn't have much of and it was not a matter of her liking him but whether he'd ever forgive her for keeping such a huge secret from him.

oooo

They started in New York City. Paula threw up on the plane three times. It wasn't in front of anyone, but it was on her hands and knees in the small lavatory. She was grateful for the roar of the engines to cover the sound of her retching. It was the smell of the coffee that set her off, the flight attendants brewing it in the galley between first class and coach. Once she started, it was hard to stop. It was called morning sickness, but hers usually didn't start until almost noon. She was always lulled into a false sense of security thinking that the morning was almost over and she'd make it through the day without getting sick, and then someone would start eating an orange or walk by her holding a container of leftovers and she'd have to bolt for the nearest toilet.

"Food poisoning," she'd told her housekeeper, Marina.

"A touch of the flu," she'd admitted to her manager, Jeff. She was getting better at lying, actually, coming up with small fibs that were white enough for no one to ask questions. And the secret she was harboring was becoming commonplace within her. The urge to share it was easy to ignore now. The shock and newness had worn off and left her feeling desperate and alone, yes, but more determined than ever to figure out a solution.

A solution she could live with.

"Are you okay?" She had to walk past Randy to get to her seat and he looked up at her over the rim of his glasses, concerned. She'd been in there for a while, and was pale and a little sweaty. She'd seen her reflection but there wasn't a lot to do about it now. Anything that could help was in her purse in the overhead compartment.

"A little nervous," she admitted. "I'll be happy to get off this plane."

"We're landing soon," he promised. She sat down in her seat, her knees still a little shaky. It was just Randy with her on this flight. If there were other Idol staff, it was people she hadn't met yet and they were probably in coach. Simon, of course, was flying in from London and they'd all converge in New York and start filming.

While they were waiting for their luggage, Paula was fretting.

"What if no one shows up to audition?" Paula asked. Randy hefted her suitcase off the carousel or her and set it at her feet.

"It's been advertised for months," Randy said, not for the first time. "They're expecting hundreds of people at each location."

"But, what if…"

"Paula," he said. "It's going to be cool. Don't worry."

He turned away to wait for his own suitcase to come around and she pulled up the handle of her own. Her nausea had finally subsided and now she was back to normal which lately meant starving. When Randy had his suitcase, he led them to the limo that waited outside.

"Can we get something to eat?" Paula asked. The driver was putting the suitcases into the trunk and they were sitting in the backseat. The limo was stocked with alcohol but no food, Paula had checked. Not even a lime to suck on or a cherry for a garnish.

"I thought you weren't hungry – you didn't eat on the plane," Randy said.

"I'm hungry now," she said.

"Well, I'm sure the hotel has a restaurant."

"How far away is the hotel?" she asked, peering out the tinted window. All she saw was traffic trying to weave in and out of the curbside lane through gridlock.

"I don't know," Randy said, slowly. "I might have a Snickers in my briefcase."

"Thank God," Paula said, grabbing the black case off the seat from beside him and clicking it open. She pawed through it until she found the candy and tore the wrapper off quickly. The chocolate was slightly melted but tasted just fine.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Randy asked, taking the open briefcase from her lap and closing it.

"Sure, why?" she asked, through her full mouth.

"Guess your nerves are gone," he murmured. The engine started and they moved into the traffic, heading for the freeway.

Aside from her constant hunger, daily sickness, and evolving body, it was her hormones that posed the most danger. Her mood swings were getting stronger and more frequent. She didn't notice them much at first, but she would have to start holding herself in check if she didn't want people asking questions.

"I'm just happy to be on solid ground," she said, forcing her self to sit still and finish the candy bar like an adult instead of a sugar-crazed child. She would buy Randy one to replace it when they got settled.

Paula decided, once she got checked into her room, to just order room service. She had known Randy for too long and if he saw her eat the amount of food she wanted to eat, he would definitely know something was wrong. While she waited for her food, she changed into more comfortable clothes. She found herself wearing softer fabrics and looser dresses. It wasn't that she was getting bigger already, but her body did feel different. Her pants fit, but they fit differently. It was hard to explain. She also knew it was temporary. Soon her body would be larger and there wasn't a thing to do about it.

When her food came, she rolled the cart in front of the bed and settled at the foot of it, her TV on. She was about to tuck in when there was a knock on her door. She sighed, looking longingly at the cart as she walked to the door, muting the television with the remote. At the door was Simon Fuller.

"I just wanted to make sure you got in all right and give you the call sheet for tomorrow," Fuller said, handing her a manila folder with her schedule inside.

"Thank you," Paula said. "I got here just fine." Fuller looked past her at the amount of food she'd ordered.

"Are you… uh, expecting company?" he asked. Perhaps he was worried because their call time was early or perhaps he was just nosy. Either way, it was none of his business.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Paula said, and shut the door. She sat back down and started eating but her enthusiasm had waned. If Fuller was here, it meant everyone who was coming from England had arrived. It meant somewhere in the hotel, possibly on the same floor, was Simon Cowell – bane of her existence, arch-nemesis, root of all her current problems.

So why couldn't she stop thinking about him?

But Simon proved to be a man of his word the next morning. He was polite to her, but distant and cool. He didn't make small talk with her and when they broke for lunch, he disappeared instead of eating at craft services with the rest of the crew. She was pleased with it, really. Special treatment was the last thing she wanted.

"Night," she called when they broke for the day. He waved without even turning to look at her.

She could live the entire summer like this, one audition city blending into another.


	2. Two

_"Sometimes, running away means you're headed in the exact right direction."_ \- Alice Hoffman

*

She wanted someone to be there with her. To walk into the theater with her, to hold her hand, to tell her that no matter what happened, everything was going to be okay. Wendy offered to go with her but Paula declined. She knew that she needed to face the music. She arrived to the theater early, intent on getting to her dressing room early and locking herself in there until the last possible moment. In the empty dressing room, she stood in her panties and bra and looked at her body in the mirror. Sideways, there was a swelling that she could no longer ignore. The waistband of her panties sat beneath the curve, and her breasts surged against the cups in her bra. She needed to go up a size in everything.

For filming, she'd brought a dress that was loose and had an abundance of fabric. When she put it on she saw that it didn't exactly hide her condition but it made it less noticeable. If she sat in her chair, if she didn't swivel or move, if she held her arms away from her body like a ballerina, perhaps she could get through the day.

But how many days?

Her staff knew; they had to know. The prenatal vitamins had made her hair grow in faster, had made it thicker and shinier. She had pimples for the first time since she was seventeen, and her make-up artist spent extra time covering them and even more time holding his tongue.

So far, the only people who knew were family, her manager, and of course her stylist because it couldn't be helped. There would be no more snug, low-riding jeans, no more midriff bearing tops and miniskirts.

She sat carefully in the chair provided for her a good ten minutes before she really had to be there.

"I want to soak it all in," she announced to no one in particular. Inside the set was like a cave. Before her, the stage was bright with lights but when she looked behind her, it was into a gaping darkness. The kids sat in the seats looking both bored and apprehensive. They didn't know what to expect, but they knew it probably wouldn't be pleasant. One girl kept twisting in her seat and looking at the exit behind her. Outside, the sun would be relentlessly bright, the sky a cloudless blue.

"How do you feel?"

Nigel startled her. He held tightly to a clipboard and looked at her over the rim of his reading glasses. They had bonded early on over their love of dance, but now she was wary of him. She felt like he was looking right through her – maybe he was.

"Fine," Paula said. "Excited."

"We've paged Randy and Simon," Nigel said. "We're going to start soon. Can I get you anything? A Coke?"

"Water," she said, quickly. "Ice water, please. With a straw."

"Sure," Nigel said, glancing at one of the assistants on hand, who hurried away to fulfill the request. "Anything else?"

"No," Paula said. "I'm excited to hear them sing."

"Me too," Nigel said, and patted her shoulder in a very stiff, British way. "All right. We'll start in five. Dunkleman is coming out of makeup now."

"Good," she said. Someone set a cup of water in front of her and handed her a straw.

"Nice dress, by the way," Nigel said as he walked away.

At night, in bed, she spoke to the life inside of her. Before she'd started to show, it was a terrible thing. It wasn't a child inside of her, but a mistake, a manifestation of failure. But then, something changed. She'd noticed the way her body was beginning to shift and bend and she'd realized that it wasn't failure that was pushing out from within her, but life. In a moment, she'd gone from hating the thing inside of her to loving it.

"I love you," she'd whispered into the darkness.

"When you get here, I will teach you how to dance," she'd said in the shower, looking down at the new curve on her petite frame.

"I hope you look like me," she'd said, as she was sitting in traffic on the 405. "Please, please look like me."

Now, she saw Simon walking toward the table and she looked down at the papers in front of her. **American Idol: Semi-Finals** was written across the top and she focused on the lettering as she tried to discreetly arrange the fabric of her dress around her.

She sat at the end of the table. She was supposed to sit in the middle, to soften the look of the panel, but the idea of sitting next to Simon made her heart speed up. She was frightened.

"You're in my seat."

She jumped at the voice and turned to see Randy. Simon had paused to speak to one of the producers.

"Oh," she said. "I just thought… you know… the day would go better if we didn't fight."

"Sure," Randy said, settling himself into the middle chair. "I agree, but somehow I think Simon will get his way."

"Why would he want to sit next to me, I just annoy him," Paula muttered.

"I think he likes it," Randy said. "He also likes beautiful women."

"Nigel saw me here and didn't say anything," Paula said petulantly.

"I'm just warning you," Randy said, pulling his own paperwork to him. "You're gonna start a fight by trying to avoid it."

As if on cue, Simon appeared at the end of this table.

"This is not right," he said, looking at them.

Paula didn't meet his eyes, but she did manage to say spitefully, "Just sit down, please, so we can start."

"Nigel?" Simon said. "This isn't the order we agreed on."

"Man, come on," Randy said.

"Nor," Simon continued, "is it the order we sat in for auditions."

"He's right," Nigel said, apologetically. "Could you switch with Randy, please, Paula?"

She wanted to put up a fight, to bitch and moan like Simon until she got her way, but she also thought drawing attention to her self wasn't wise.

"Fine." She pushed back from the table. "Whatever Simon wants."

"Now she's got it!" Simon said and the whole studio chuckled somewhat nervously. Paula knew he was teasing, but it still stung. She glowered at him, tried to convey to him her intense hatred and to his benefit, he did seem to back off.

An hour into filming, Simon leaned over to her.

"Does your back hurt?" he asked.

"Why do you care?" she snapped.

"Your posture looks like shit, that's why I care. You're hunching over."

"My god, will you just focus on the kids?" she said.

"It's distracting," he muttered. "Thought dancers were supposed to have carriage."

Paula held her tongue only because she _was_ hunching. She'd have to be careful. She was overcompensating and in trying to hide her condition was only calling more attention to herself.

She sat up straight, tucking one heeled foot underneath herself and ignored the smug look on Simon's face.

When they broke for lunch, she rushed to the bathroom to pee for the third time since they started and then went to craft services. Her stomach was growling. She was always hungry and not only was she starting to show in her stomach, but her cheeks were rounding out as well. She wished, for not the first time in her life, that she was taller so she could carry the weight a little easier.

In line, everyone filled their plates. There was a common dining area, but Paula walked right by it, intent on eating alone in her dressing room. Not only did she not feel like chatting or mingling, she knew no one would watch her eat and wonder how such a tiny woman could eat her weight in food.

Her bra straps were digging into her shoulders as she settled into the canvas chair in front of the vanity mirror, but there were still hours to go, so she set her discomfort aside and dug into her lunch. It was half gone when the door flew open. She jumped and her fork went flying out of her hand and clattered onto the floor.

"Sorry," Simon said.

"Don't you knock?" she complained.

"I didn't think you'd let me in if I did," he said, bending over to retrieve the utensil. He took it into the bathroom and rinsed it in the sink. She took it from him, mistrustful of his kindness.

"What do you want?"

"I just… you seem off. I thought I'd check on you," he said.

"Don't think you need to care about me just because once we made a mistake," she warned him. She realized, tiredly, that keeping up this level of hatred for him was exhausting. "What happened to you ignoring me?"

"Christ," he muttered. "Look, I know you hate me. You've made that abundantly clear, but I don't hate you, okay?" She set the plate down on the counter and crossed her arms. "We have a lot of filming to do. Auditions are one thing, but we need some chemistry here. Maybe you could, I don't know, get over what happened so we can all make a heap of money?"

"It's not something you just _get over_," she said, making air quotes with her fingers.

"It was just sex!" he said, throwing up his hands in despair. "One time! Months ago! One bloody fantastic shag, never to be repeated. That's it! Why can't you just let it go?"

Paula felt the tears coming and tried, frantically, to swallow them down. She wanted to let it go, but it wasn't to be so. She was dealing with consequences that he couldn't know about.

Because she hadn't told him.

"I want to," she said, her voice cracking audibly. "I can't."

"Are you… crying?" he asked. He looked like he was out of his element, like he was about to bolt.

"No!" she said, but she was. The tears were gathering in her lower lid.

"Paula, you've got to tell me what is wrong. What did I do? It was just a one-night stand. I mean, I didn't force you!"

"No," she said, swiping at her face in a way that wouldn't ruin her make-up. "You didn't."

"So, what?" he begged.

"Simon," she said. She swallowed at the lump in her throat and tried again. "Simon, I'm…"

The speaker in the room crackled and then, the director announced the two-minute warning.

"Never mind," she said. "You're right. This will all be easier if we're cordial to one another. Let's both try for that."

"Fine," he said, though he looked genuinely concerned.

She didn't wait for him to leave – didn't want to walk back to the set with him. Instead, she bustled past him, holding up the folds of her long dress in her hands.

She felt him watch her go.

To say that the day finished without incident wouldn't be exactly true, but Paula made it to the end of filming without bursting into tears or being discovered so she marked it as a victory and climbed tiredly behind the wheel of her Mercedes.

People thought that she was high maintenance. Always requesting bathroom breaks, needing fresh water, refusing tea with caffeine or coffee of any kind despite being obviously tired. That was fine. People could call her a diva behind her back all they wanted – she could live with that. What the media would say when this all broke would be worse than anything Sam the grip could come up with.

She called her sister on the drive home, sitting in traffic wearing sunglasses and holding the cellular phone to her ear with her shoulder.

"How'd it go?" Wendy asked. She was thrilled with the news, despite Paula's argument that it was unplanned and had come at the worst possible time with the worst possible person.

"God doesn't make mistakes," Wendy had informed her sister dismissively. Paula had rolled her eyes but had been thinking about that flippant statement ever since.

"It went okay," Paula said. "There are some really talented singers, I can't wait for you to hear them."

"Okay, well, that isn't what I meant, but that's exciting too," Wendy said. "I meant, how do you feel?"

"I'm an emotional wreck. I kept jumping down everyone's throat and there was this one point where…"

"Where what?" Wendy asked.

"He came into my dressing room and confronted me and I almost told him, Wen, I was this close."

"You should have!" Wendy scolded her. Wendy had been telling her this from the moment Paula revealed her condition. Her sister was under the belief that the longer Paula waited, the worse it was going to be. Wendy had always been disgustingly honest, even as a child, and a terrible liar.

"No," Paula said, resolutely.

"Paula…"

"I will," she said quickly. "I just… am not ready."

"By the time you're ready, you're going to have a teenager," Wendy said. "And maybe this guy is a huge jerk like you say, I haven't met him, but he can't have been that bad or else you wouldn't have…"

"Okay, okay," Paula said. "Please don't say it."

"And anyway," Wendy continued. "He's still a person and deserves to know what you're both getting into."

"And what if he doesn't want anything to do with it?" Paula asks.

"Then he's a jerk, but at least then he's a jerk for a reason," Wendy said. "What if he does want something to do with it?"

"I don't… I don't know," Paula said. "I don't know what's going to happen."

"That's kind of how life works, baby cakes," Wendy said. "Are you still coming over for dinner on Friday?"

"Yes," Paula said. "You should see me. It's like I get a little bigger every day."

"I know this isn't… well. I'm happy for you, at any rate."

"Thanks," Paula said. "When I come over, try to keep your hand off my stomach for at least five minutes this time, okay?"

"No promises," Wendy said. "Call me any time. Day or night."

"Love you," Paula said, before hanging up.

The next day, she wore loose, straight-legged pants and a blouse that had ruffles all down the front. Again, it didn't exactly hide her condition, but it was distracting enough to divert suspecting eyes. She sat in her chair in the center of the table without complaint. Beside her, Randy offered a good morning and she returned the sentiment. She was going to be cheerful today, pleasant. She was going to be more herself – kind to the contestants and diplomatic toward anyone who might want to pick a fight with her.

As annoying as it was to admit, Simon had been right. From his perspective, she should be able to 'let it go' and move on so she would try to do so. She wouldn't go so far as to be nice to him because that would just be suspicious, but she was not going to antagonize him and she was definitely not going to spar with him, even if he started it.

"Good morning, Simon," she said when he said down. He looked at her, his eyebrows high on his forehead.

"Good morning," he said, obviously surprised. "You look nice."

"Thank you," she said, and turned to face the stage. Randy, beside them both, watched curiously.

"Good!" he said, when they were finished with their polite exchange. "That was good, you two."

"Shut up, Randy," Simon said, adjusting his microphone. He leaned into it. "Can we start, please?"

There was a small band of elastic sewn into the waist of her pants. Her stylist had done this with several pairs of pants – she didn't want to have to go out and buy a bunch of maternity wear when she could just alter things she already owned. But still, by halfway through the day, she could see the outline of the elastic imprinted into her skin, red and uniform.

On breaks, she would roll the waist of the pants down, letting her stomach hang out slightly, her skin relax. She would be happy when filming was done for the week – happy to have a few days to herself. To walk around her house in a stretchy tank top and terrycloth shorts with the drawstring untied. To sing a lullaby out loud while she made stir-fry in the kitchen.

It was almost time to head back. She rearranged her hair in the mirror and fixed her pants before heading out to the set. She was about to pass Randy's dressing room when she heard his voice, always booming even when he was just speaking in normal conversation.

"…do you think is wrong with her?" Randy asked. Paula paused, hesitating a few feet from the open door.

"I'm not sure." This was Simon. "She seems… off."

"You haven't known her very long," Randy said. "Paula is… I don't want to say fragile, but she's definitely someone to treat carefully. Maybe she's just sick of your fighting."

"I don't know her that well," Simon conceded. "I guess I just didn't expect her to be so quiet and moody. Most celebrities fight for the center stage all the time."

"Like you?" Randy asked and both men laughed.

"More camera time for me, then, it's agreed," Simon said.

Paula backed up quietly and then started the walk down the hall again, making sure her heels were loud on the concrete floor. She passed by without pausing or saying anything, but she could feel two pairs of eyes on her.

oooo

"What are you doing this weekend?"

Paula looked up from the call sheet in front of her to see Simon standing next to her.

"Having dinner with my family," she answered. He waited and she realized he was waiting for her to ask him his plans. Holding in a sigh, she did so. "You?"

"I'm not sure yet," he said, sitting down in his chair. "Still getting to know this city, I suppose. Any suggestions?"

"If you're looking for club suggestions, I'd ask Ryan before me," she offered. "I don't really go out."

"You go out to restaurants," Simon said. "Your favorite sushi place?"

"Not a fan," she said. This was a flat out lie, but she wasn't eating seafood at the moment and didn't want to bring that up.

"It is sort of hard to get used to, but I like it fine," Simon said. "I wonder if there's a good place to get fish and chips in this city?"

"What are we doing?" Paula asked, tossing her pen down.

"Having a conversation?" Simon offered. "It's what colleagues do."

"Right," she said. "You're right. Where's Randy?"

"In wardrobe. He spilled fudge on his shirt and they're trying to get it out. Otherwise, it's going to look weird."

"Yeah," Paula said. "We're back in less than a minute."

"He'll be here," Simon said and lo, he was right. Randy rushed to his seat as the lights went down.

When they broke for the day, Simon was there again.

"So your family is in Los Angeles too?"

"In the area," she said wearily, shrugging into an oversized sweater and holding her purse against her stomach. If life were a sitcom, she'd walk around carrying a pillow in front of her like it wasn't at all strange behavior.

"Mum, dad, sister, brother?" he asked. She rubbed her forehead. She promised herself she would be kind, so she indulged him even though all she really wanted to do was go home.

"A sister, older," she said. "My mom lives near me. I'll see my father and his wife this weekend. Any more questions?"

"I tried to get my mum to come out with me but she wouldn't have it," Simon said. "You'd like her, I think. She's much nicer than me."

"Surprise," Paula said sarcastically, but she didn't mean it cruelly and he smirked. "Have a good weekend, I'm getting out of here while I can."

"All right," Simon said, stepping aside to let her out the door. "Goodnight."

At home, eating ice cream straight from the carton, she thought about their last exchange. She'd agreed to be cordial, but Simon was doing more than that. He was, it seemed, making a genuine effort to get to know her and to staunch the flow of her hatred. All he had to do was type her name into _Yahoo!_ and he'd learn all he wanted to know about her.

Her spoon hit the bottom of the carton and she frowned at herself. Maybe she wasn't showing as much as making herself fat by eating a half-gallon of ice cream in three days. Her doctor had warned her off too much time on the treadmill since she was considered high-risk and told her to swim laps instead. In the morning, she would spend some time in the pool, working off that rocky road.

She tried to imagine her body in the skimpy bikinis that she owned and changed her mind. Maybe an easy ballet workout would be better. No need to punish herself by putting on a swimsuit.

She couldn't sleep through the night anymore. Part of it was heartburn; part of it was stress. Secrets, though invisible, were heavy things. It was like carrying around lead in her pockets or strapped to her ankles. Secrets could tire muscles and grind down bones. They weren't healthy and the longer she carried hers, the worse she felt.

At 3:30 am, she stood in front of her refrigerator, starving and worn out. She couldn't believe she could be hungry again and she let her hand rest on her stomach.

"You'd better be 40 pounds when you come out, otherwise I'm going to have a problem," Paula said. "Well, on second thought…"

She forced herself to eat an apple, a healthy snack even though it wasn't the sweetness she craved. She'd denied herself junk food for so long and now it was all she wanted. Wedges of cake, square chocolates filled with gooey caramel, salty and oily potato chips, and strangely, red licorice.

When she arrived at her sister's house on Friday and shed her coat, Wendy shook her head.

"You are out of time, sister," Wendy said.

"I know, I know," Paula moaned. "It's because I'm little. All the books say I should have another few weeks."

"You have another few days," Wendy said, touching the bulge already. "Maybe."

"I have to pee," Paula said, pushing her hand away. "And I'm starving to death. Do you have anything sweet?" Wendy didn't answer because Paula was already down the hallway, shutting the bathroom door behind her. When she came out, Wendy was in the kitchen. She handed Paula a fudge popsicle and shrugged.

"Best I can do," Wendy said.

"Where's dad?" Paula asked, her mouth already full of chocolate.

"He had to work," Wendy said. "But I called mom and she said she'd come. But don't tell her I invited her just because daddy canceled."

"No kidding," Paula said. "Girls night sounds fun, anyway."

"I'm pretty sure you aren't supposed to eat cold things that fast," Wendy said. "Are you going to eat the stick too?"

"Shut your mouth," Paula snapped. "I'm starving all the time, I can't help it."

"I vaguely remember that," Wendy said. "I still haven't told the boys, by the way."

"Shouldn't they be home soon?" Paula asked. Her nephews were both away to school but summer was here.

"Next week, both of them," Wendy said. "I mean, they know about you and the media, they've grown up with that but I just thought you could tell them in person."

"Right," Paula said.

"And by tell them, I mean walk into the room," Wendy qualified, poking her sister's firm tummy.

"You're so mean," Paula said, sinking into one of the chairs around the table. "I thought… I thought I could get through the semi-finals but I don't know any more."

"I do know and you can't," Wendy said. "Unless you wear a sack of some kind."

"Somehow I think the wardrobe department is fresh out of sacks," Paula sighed. "I'm so frightened to tell him."

"Well," Wendy said.

"Well what?" Paula asked.

"I mean, I'm going to tell you this but I don't condone it," Wendy said. "You can tell the producers without… I mean Simon doesn't have to know…"

"Oh my god!" Paula said. "I don't have to tell Simon he's the father! That hadn't even occurred to me!"

"It's not really a good plan," Wendy said.

"He's going to think I'm a big ho," Paula said. "But whatever. You're a genius."

"In fact, I would say it's a really bad plan," Wendy said. "He's going to ask you."

"I can lie," Paula said.

"Not very well."

"I'll practice," Paula said. "Some lies are good."

"That's not actually true."

But Paula didn't hear her sister. She threw the popsicle stick into the trash and went to go sit down on the couch and wait for their mother. Paula knew her mother had written her off as a producer of grandchildren long ago. Lorraine had lavished love and attention on Wendy's boys, as they all had. Now, with the news of a new grand baby on the way, Lorraine was gearing up in a way she hadn't for years.

Today, she arrived with a big bag of things for her youngest daughter.

"Oh, Mom," Paula said, taking the Bloomingdale's brown bag. "What is all this stuff?"

"Just things! Things for the baby!" Lorraine's excitement couldn't be contained.

Inside the bag were new bottles, pacifiers still in their packaging, and nearly twenty onesies in a variety of pastel colors. And, below all of that, a beautiful green, satin dress.

"Oh," said Wendy, finally speechless for once.

"It's lovely," Paula said. "But I don't even know what the baby is yet."

"God wouldn't deny me a granddaughter," Lorraine said, confidently. "Not after all this time."

Paula didn't know what to say to that, so she said nothing. She hadn't bought a thing for the baby yet. No crib, no small shoes, no rattles, nothing. She hadn't even thought about where to put the nursery.

She held up the green dress and looked at the lacy collar with wide eyes.

"Oh God," she whispered. Lorraine looked concerned but Wendy just patted Paula's bony knee reassuringly.

"You just realized there's a tiny person growing inside of you, didn't you?"

"Yes," Paula said. "I'm making an entirely new human."

"And she's going to be beautiful," Lorraine said happily.


	3. Chapter 3

_Does your heart echo like a hall, cause there's no one there at all?_ \- 'Riga Girls' The Weepies

*

It wasn't as if she could hideaway until the baby came. She had to, at the very least, show up to film the show. Though, if Fuller and Nigel could fire her, she thought they'd do it in a heartbeat. American Idol had become the surprising smash hit of the summer and in no time the story of Paula's pregnancy had totally eclipsed it. Now, all the press speculated on was the due date, how big she'd get, and who could the mysterious father be. The show was a footnote and the contestants, who should have been the focus, were even less than that.

Photographers swamped her house, followed her around town and waited outside the studio for her to reappear when the live broadcasts ended. It was like when she'd first shot to fame, but this time the articles written were not quite as kind.

Wendy, however, got a kick out of all the crazy speculation and still had the **Paula Abdul: Straight Up Knocked Up** headline clipping stuck on her refrigerator.

"I've been keeping a list of who the press says is the father," Wendy said on the phone. "But my top five favorites are Michael Jackson…"

"I'm so not his type," Paula interjected.

"Emilio..."

"That ship sailed, but he did send me a nice card."

"Charlie Sheen..."

"Keeping it all in the family?" Paula laughed.

"John Stamos..."

"Married, but I still wish," she said, dreamily. "He was a-mazing."

"And, my clear favorite, Ryan Seacrest," Wendy laughed.

"What? Ryan? Ryan who is young enough to be my… nephew?" she squeaked.

"They painted you as the desperate older woman, seducing him for his sperm before your clock ticked out."

"I'm slightly offended by that," Paula said and then she paused. "Do any of them guess Simon?"

"Three so far," Wendy admitted. "But most of them seem to think the hatred you show on air is genuine."

"It is genuine," Paula said.

"No, it isn't," Wendy said. "You told me last week he was dealing with the news admirably."

"I meant he hasn't yet fled the country or shoved me down some stairs," Paula said. "He turns and walks the other way when he sees me coming."

"Well you did lie to him for weeks and weeks. Most dads get nine months to get used to the idea of fatherhood. He gets barely four," Wendy said. "He has every right to be upset."

"Whose side are you on?" Paula asked.

"Yours, but come on," Wendy said. "This whole situation has spun rather wildly out of control."

She'd denied for weeks that he was the father, but had finally relented and told him the truth just last week. He'd demanded to know why she'd lied and she hadn't been able to come up with an answer. He'd been disgusted with her, but more than that, sorely disappointed in her. It was his disappointment that stung far more than his anger. Heaped on top of the disappointment she felt for herself, well, it was almost too much to handle. She'd offered to quit, first to Simon and then later to the producers but no one had accepted it. Ken had said, "Little late for that, Paula." Had sent her away.

"I don't know what to say to him anyway," Paula said. "Simon isn't exactly the fatherly sort."

"Do you even know what sort he is?" Wendy asked. "I'm serious, you need to have some sort of relationship with him for the sake of your child."

"I don't need a lecture," Paula said. "And anyway, I'm almost to work."

"Fine," Wendy said, obviously losing patience. They'd had this conversation often. "But I just… my boys lost their father. I know what it's like to do it alone, and it's not something I'd pick given a choice."

"I know," Paula said delicately.

In the studio, the tension grew thicker every week. The end was coming and no one knew exactly how it was going to play out. Sure, the show was bringing in incredible ratings, but would America accept the winner? Would they buy albums? 

And if the show did become the success it was supposed to be, would they be renewed for another season? Would Paula be asked back? Could the show continue and flourish with different judges? With a baby on her hip, could Paula keep doing the show even if she wanted to?

If she thought too much about it, she started to panic. Her heart started to race and her vision swam and she couldn't afford to fall apart just now.

Simon seethed when he sat next to her. Every week she told herself that he couldn't keep sustaining that level of anger, and every week he was still just so mad. All right, yes, she had lied to him, that was true. She'd hid her pregnancy and when he asked her if the baby was his, she'd said no a number of times before admitting it, but what could she have done differently? She'd been trying to protect him, protect them both, after all. Couldn't he see that?

Her back was killing her by the time she made it out to her car at the end of filming. The strap of her bag was hurting her shoulder and the arches of her feet were aching in her high heels. She fished around for her car keys in her bag and almost walked right into the side of Simon's sports car. She jumped and her heart was beating rapidly.

"Simon?" she asked. "You scared me."

"Get in," he said from behind sunglasses. It was dark already, but that never seemed to stop his one note aesthetic.

"I just am going to go home, I'm tired," she said.

"Get in the car, Paula," he repeated. When she didn't make a move, he sighed and added, "Please."

This, for Simon, was something like an olive branch so she pushed down her annoyance and fear and exhaustion and walked carefully around the front of the car. She squinted when the bright headlights shined into her eyes and she had to wait for Simon to fumble with the locks before she could climb in. She shut the door and set her purse at her feet. He waited until she pulled the seat belt over her growing frame.

"What is this all about?" she asked, not really expecting an answer.

"There's someone I need you to meet," he said. "Don't you think you at least owe me that?" He hadn't even given her a chance to say something nice or something snarky before tacking that last aggressive sentence on.

"I probably owe you more," she admitted, leaning back. At least the soft leather seats were comfortable. While she didn't trust Simon, she did trust that he wouldn't hurt her and so she leaned her head back and let her eyes close, her hand resting on her belly. She let the loud roar of the engine soothe her and drifted off while he shifted and sped off into the hills.

She woke up to a warm hand on her leg.

"We're here," he said and when she didn't respond, said, "Paula?"

"Okay," she said, feeling groggy. "I'm awake."

She looked through the windshield and was startled. It was his house, the giant, sprawling rental he'd been staying in since he'd come to the states. She hadn't been here since the first time, since that night. She had a million questions, but instead she pushed the door open and tried to hoist her heavy body up and out of the low car. When the first try didn't work, she kicked off her heels and put them in her bag. No reason to be in agony when she had no one to impress. Simon had already come around to her side and held out a hand and she reluctantly took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

"Thanks," she murmured. He shut the door and activated the alarm. The car honked and flashed and then all was dark and quiet, except for the glow coming from the lights of the house. She padded silently after Simon. The air was cool, but the concrete beneath her bare feet was still warm and it was a relief to walk across it with out pain or the uncertain balance every week brought as her weight changed.

He didn't bother to put a key in the lock, just pushed the front door open and breezed in. Paula could smell something cooking in the kitchen and her mouth watered in response. Of course she was hungry - she was always hungry. Her stomach growled. Simon glanced back at her but said nothing.

"We're here," he called. Paula couldn't imagine whom it was that Simon had in mind, but when the older woman came around the corner wearing a patterned apron, her heart froze a bit. Paula looked at Simon for an explanation but the woman just smiled, her eyes already watered.

"Oh, you make a beautiful expectant mother," she said, clapping her hands. Her accent was British. "Simon, she's positively glowing."

Paula felt pale and haggard, but she still wore her stage make-up so maybe she still did glow. She didn't have the heart to explain that it was a lie.

"I'm sorry," Paula said, shaking her head. "I don't understand..."

"Paula, this is my mum, Julie," Simon said, finally pushing those ridiculous glasses up onto his head. "Mum, this is Paula Abdul."

They both looked at Paula who had no idea what they expected of her. She wished Simon would have given her some sort of warning, but she deserved his meanness for as long as he decided to hand it out.

"I'd like to sit down, if that's all right," she settled on, finally.

"Of course, of course," Mrs. Cowell said. "Dinner is almost ready. I thought maybe we could have a chat? Get to know one another?"

Paula sent another long side glance to Simon.

"Sure," she said. Julie disappeared back into the kitchen and she didn't know whether to follow. Finally, Simon touched her back lightly and pointed to the living room.

"I'll get you some water," he said, and it seemed like that was all the apology for this ambush that she was going to get.

Several hours later, Paula found herself alone in a guest room of Simon's home. After dinner and the third degree on everything from her own childhood to family medical history, it was late and she was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open.

"Just stay," Simon had said, finally after Paula and his mother had gone back and forth about it. "I don't want you driving this tired. Stay and I'll take you home in the morning."

"Fine," she'd said.

"Fine!" Mrs. Cowell had said merrily. Simon and Paula hadn't made light of the fact that this had been an accident and they were in no way a couple, but that didn't seem to diminish the older woman's joy. So it had been settled. In the room, there was a bureau containing a man's workout clothes. Old t-shirts and sweat pants that fit better than anything meant for a woman would have, so she put them on and washed her face with the scented guest soaps in the decorative dish by the sink. It took a while to get the makeup off. She was just about to get into the bed when there was an unmistakable knock at the door. She crossed the room and opened it just enough to see his face.

"I should've told you," he said. He was feeling guilty now.

"It doesn't matter," she said, opening the door and stepping back. She couldn't care if he saw her without makeup and in borrowed, ill-fitting clothes.

"She flew out without telling me. She demanded to meet you," he explained.

"I'm the mother of..." she couldn't say it. "Her grandchild. I'd want to meet me too."

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked, looking at her with a critical eye.

"Just tired," she said. "You?"

"I'm fine," he said. He was hesitating, putting off something he wanted to ask. She abandoned her guard of the door all together and walked to the bed. He lingered in the doorway.

"What?" she asked. "What is it, Simon? Just spit it out."

"Can I see it?" he blurted.

"See what?" she asked, confused.

"The..." He waved his hand in front of his own, flat midsection. "Your bump."

"Oh," she said, softly. "Um, okay."

With her agreement, he stepped into the room and shut the door softly behind him. She sat on the bed and lay back against the pillows that helped prop her up. He sat by her feet and she eased the shirt up and tucked the extra fabric beneath her breasts. The bump wasn't huge, yet, but was unmistakable. Her skin was stretched taut and her belly button was beginning to lose its shape. She rubbed vitamin E and cocoa butter over the skin nightly - she had to skip tonight.

"Can you feel it move?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "Not right now, but earlier, when we were eating."

"We haven't talked about..."

"Anything?" she supplied. "You're pretty angry with me, Simon."

"Yeah," he said. "You should have told me."

"I should have," she agreed.

"Why didn't you?" he asked.

"I thought... I thought you wouldn't... I wanted to save you, I guess."

He made a strange noise in the back of his throat.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" he asked, finally.

"I find out next week," she said. "I'll... let you know."

He nodded thoughtfully. Simon rarely looked contemplative - he was the type of man to make snap decisions. He didn't linger, muse, wallow in choices. He always just knew. She was jealous of that. But now, he looked like he didn't know what was coming next. She didn't know either.

Then she felt it - a flutter, a pressure against her skin. The baby was shifting inside of her.

"Give me your hand," she said, a note of urgency in her voice. He put out his hand and she grabbed it, pressing it against her warm stomach. "Feel it?"

He waited a beat and then shook his head. "No."

She shifted it slightly and pressed the hand again harder and she felt it, the movement. His eyes lit up.

"I felt it that time," he said. "There's... it's really alive in there."

"I'm growing a person," she said. "It never isn't strange."

"It's half me," he said. "This is going to sound off, but I'm just going to say it. Why didn't we use a condom again?"

"I honestly thought I was too old," she said. "I was so mad and then it was so... well, spontaneous. But I thought I was too old."

"You aren't old," he said. "I mean, I'm older. Too old to...." He shook his head and then realized he was still touching her and was rubbing small circles on her stomach. He snatched his hand away. "It's late. I'll let you sleep."

"Thanks," she said. "See you in the morning."

She thought he hesitated outside the door for a few minutes before heading down the hall but she was so tired that she couldn't be sure.

oooo

The morning brought awkwardness. Paula was torn about what to do: Stay in bed until the last possible moment or get up early and be ready as soon as she could. She picked getting up early so she could at least go raid the kitchen for some breakfast. It was odd pulling on her Idol clothes from the night before and going out into the light of day. She decided to skip a shower in favor of food and getting home soon.

But her plan was foiled when she saw Simon sitting at the kitchen table reading the _L.A. Times_. She froze in the doorway but he glanced up and saw her.

"This paper is rubbish," he said, tossing it down.

"Good morning to you too," she said.

"I had a courier bring you some new clothes," he said, pointing at a bag on the chair across from him. He looked at her with a critical eye. "Are there not fresh towels in your ensuite?"

"No, there are, I mean, I just thought I'd get out of your hair," she explained.

"I think my mum's heart is set on breakfast," he said. "Go shower, and we'll eat and then we don't have to see each other for another week."

"Okay," she said, glancing longingly at the refrigerator as she picked up the bag and turned to go.

"Take a banana or something if you're starving to death," he said, watching her. She walked to the counter and plucked one from the bowl.

"Thanks," she said. She cleared her throat. "For the clothes, too."

"Hmm," he said, and she couldn't read the noise.

She peeled back the banana's skin as she climbed the stairs and by the time she reached her room, it was gone. It would take the edge off while she showered, at least. There were several clean towels in her guest bathroom as well as shampoo, conditioner and soap. Paula suspected that Simon rented the entire place furnished. There was even a pink disposable razor that looked to be brand new. Paula only shaved her legs in the bath now - leaning over and around her stomach was too hard and dangerous.

The shower was quick and she wrapped the towel around her to investigate the clothing that Simon had gotten for her. It was a sweet gesture, one she'd thought him incapable of. His furious silence since her admission that he was the father had been telling her that he wanted nothing to do with her or their child but these last hours had given her something to think about.

The bag was from _A Pea in the Pod_ and contained two t-shirts, a zip-up hoodie, a pair of yoga pants, a pair of jeans and maternity underwear. It was more than enough and from a name boutique hadn't come cheaply. She decided on the black yoga pants and the pink t-shirt as well as the gray hoodie. The clothes were far and away more comfortable than any of her own altered clothes. The pants had a huge band of stretchy fabric at the waist that didn't chafe and allowed for movement. The t-shirt didn't bind her growing breasts or cut her off at the armpits because the shoulders were too tight. There was even a pair of black ballet flats in the bag. He must have remembered her taking off her heels, coming into the house barefoot. She folded up her worn outfit and shoved it into her over sized bag. She looked at the rest of the maternity clothes. It felt weird taking them home, as if they were a gift rather than a necessity. Instead, she folded them up and put them in the bureau in the guest room.

If she needed them, she knew where they would be.

oooo

And so began a tepid and agonizingly slow march toward a truce. There was so much damage to repair on both sides. Paula didn't trust Simon and Simon had every right to be angry with Paula for lying and concealing and holding in her secret. But they were in this together and had gotten themselves into this mess so they had to deal with it like adults.

At least the show remained a smashing success. Paula once again had to deal with photographers trailing her and documenting her every move. The press was still in a frenzy trying to figure out who the father was. She and Simon were careful not to say anything about it to anyone. Their families knew the truth - Paula and Simon had also told the executive producers of the show the truth (Nigel had put his forehead to the table and for all Paula knew was still in the conference room, quietly crying), but even Randy, Ryan, and Brian didn't know for sure though she was sure they suspected. On air Simon and Paula still bickered like two cats in a burlap sack, but as soon as the cameras quit and the audience stopped watching, they were civil. Simon held open doors for her and occasionally held out a hand if she had trouble getting out of her chair or a squishy couch.

Randy didn't ask - he assumed Paula would tell him when she was ready, but Ryan was practically foaming at the mouth. At least Brian was obviously unhappy as a host and didn't tend to socialize much with the others. Nigel had already let slip that he probably wouldn't be coming back next season.

After a results show, Paula had to lie down in her dressing room for just a few minutes. Everything was exhausting lately. Just getting through the show was getting harder and harder. Her doctor had demanded more rest from her.

"And I'll know if you're not following my orders," she'd said at the last appointment. "All I have to do is open a tabloid."

"Don't remind me," Paula had said.

Now, she woke up nearly and hour later with Simon covering her with the pink throw blanket she kept on the back of the couch in her dressing room.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Not that late," he said. "Get some rest before you drive home."

"No," she said sitting up and pushing her bangs away from her face. "It will just be harder to get up later."

"You look tired," he commented. It wasn't meant to be an insult, just an observation but still she scrunched up her nose at him.

"I'm fine," she said. "Where is everyone?"

"Mostly gone," he said. "Just set guys left."

"Good," she said, resting her head back against the couch and covering a yawn with the back of her hand. "Good."

"So," Simon said.

"So...?"

"You went to the doctor right? You found out the... the sex of the child?" he asked, impatiently.

"Oh right! I forgot," she said.

"You forgot the sex of our child?" he asked.

"No, just that I said I'd tell you today," she said. "But if your going to be mean about it, I guess I could just keep it to myself..."

"PAULA," he roared. "Tell me immediately!"

"It's a boy," she said. "And everything looks fine. I saw his little boy parts on the monitor and everything. My mother is devastated."

"Do you have one of those wonky little pictures?" he asked.

"A sonogram?" she chuckled. "Yeah, it's in my purse. Will you get it for me?"

He fetched the large bag for her with no complaint besides a stern look when he felt how heavy it was. She fished through it for several moments - he could hear the clinking of everything.

"Found it," she said, extracting a yellow envelope. She handed it to him and he pulled the sonogram out and squinted at it for a few moments.

"What the hell am I looking at here?" he said, finally.

"This is the head," she said pointing to the picture. "Here is his arm and these are feet. You can't see his... parts in this picture, but they're there."

"Big like his daddy's," Simon grinned. Paula didn't say anything - they never talked about the one time they'd been together. "Oh come on, don't act like you weren't impressed."

"Simon," she said sharply.

"And when the little tyke asks where he came from? What are you going to tell him? You tripped? We had sex, Paula, we didn't kill anyone. You can talk about it."

"Maybe you can," she said, snatching the picture from his hand and shoving it back into her purse. "I'm the one living with the consequences."

"I hate when you do that," he said, watching her struggle to stand but not offering her any help this time. "When you act like you're all alone in the world. I'm here, aren't I? I'm going to do my part."

"You already did your part," she said, finally making it to her feet. "I'm going home."

"Like hell you are," he said, his voice rising. "This is what you always do, you run away and play martyr but look where it's gotten you so far!"

"Screw you, Simon," she shouted back.

"You'd like that!"

By the time security had opened the door, Simon and Paula were in a full on screaming fight. She couldn't understand a thing he was saying - she could hardly understand herself - but she knew what his volume and bright red face meant. They were so close that her stomach was pressing against his. When the door flew open and Tyrone the security guard came in, they both stopped shouting and whipped their heads around.

"WHAT?" Paula yelled.

"I just wanted to make sure everything was okay, Ma'am," he said glancing at Simon.

"Don't worry," he said. "If I haven't killed her by now I probably won't," he said and rushed past Tyrone and out the door. Paula stared after him.

"Would you like me to escort you to your car, Miss Abdul?" he asked. She let him take her to her car, tell her to have a good night, and watch as she drove out of the lot. Her mind was still lost in the fight, however. She could feel herself grinding her teeth and the baby moving inside her. How dare Simon, how dare he? He had no idea what she was going through.

But by the time she got home, her anger had turned into a deep, sharp sadness and she was wiping tears off her cheeks when she walked through the door. Sometimes her housekeeper was there when she got in, but it was already late and it didn't take her long to realize she was all alone. The house was dark and stuffy – it had hardly cooled off even though the sun was down. She trudged up the stairs, pulling off her clothes. She just wanted to get into bed. She didn't even bother to turn on a lamp. She just dropped her clothes on the floor and slid beneath her comforter, glad for at least one thing. The day was over.


	4. Chapter 4

_"Cold is made of beauty and fear_  
_and thaw is made of aching."_  
\- Sarah Gordon

*

"I'm sorry."

She looked over her shoulder and saw him standing there. It had been a week and they were back in the studio. She had just come out of hair and makeup and was in her robe, about to get dressed. The robe strained to tie across her midsection. She had three months to go - Idol would finish out the season and less than a month later was her due date.

"No you aren't," she said, looking back at her garment bag. She pulled down the zipper to see what her stylist had sent over. Maternity clothes were frustrating. She never liked them, she never felt very pretty.

"Okay," he agreed. "I'm not sorry, but I also don't like fighting with you."

She blew out a frustrated breath from between her lips.

"Yes, you do."

"Okay, _fine_, I like fighting," he admitted. "But you don't."

"Finally, a nugget of truth," she muttered, and then, "Do you mind? I need to change."

"I don't mind at all," he said, waggling his eyebrows.

"This body is not the body you saw," she said. "This is the body that ate that body."

"No," he said, thoughtfully. "There's something oddly alluring about this body."

"What?" she snorted. "The fact that it's enormous?"

"No," he said. "I've seen plenty of knocked up ladies and found them weird and off-putting, but you're still kind of hot."

She had to suppress the urge to smile. "I read something in my baby book about hormones and fathers still being attracted to heavily pregnant mothers because they know it's their child inside," she said, shrugging off the robe. She was still wearing a tank top and the yoga pants he'd bought for her. They were just about stretched to the max now, but still the most comfortable thing she had.

"The urge to strangle you until you die has strangely faded," he commented. "Mostly."

"You were leaving?"

"Was I?" he asked.

"Simon!"

"So we're done being mad?" he asked, his hand on the door.

"For now," she relented.

On air, Ryan asked, like he did every week, who the father was.

"Give it a rest, Ryan," she said, the lights shining down on her making her perspire.

"Come on man, this is about the kids!" Randy piped in.

"Just... is it Simon?" Ryan asked. "Come on, just tell us. America wants to know!"

Paula looked over at Simon who sat in a stony silence.

"What if I said yes? What would happen?" Paula asked, keeping her voice light and airy.

"I would win a lot of money," Ryan laughed.

"And what would you do with that money?" Paula inquired.

"I'd give it to charity of course," Ryan responded promptly." He was a cheesy and toothy host, but he was quick on his feet.

"Hmm," Paula said. "Well-keep betting and we'll see how it goes."

Once the cameras were off them, Simon leaned in.

"What on Earth was that?" he whispered. She shrugged.

"They're gonna know eventually," she whispered back. "Why not have some good come of it?"

"You're mental," he said, sitting back up. "This is our real life you know."

"Oh," she said. "I know."

"Shut up," Randy said as the camera swung back around. They did.

Ryan was waiting in her dressing room when she came in. He had no idea how he got there so fast, but she just looked at him and collapsed into her chair in front of the vanity.

"What?" she said finally.

"It really is his, isn't it?" Ryan asked.

"Ryan, not now," she said. "I'm tired and hungry and have to pee and literally can't decide which of those to deal with first."

"This is real Ryan, not TV Ryan," he said. "But it's really Cowell's, isn't it?"

"Okay first? There is absolutely no difference between those Ryans and you know it. Secondly, Simon and I can barely stand to be in the same room. Thirdly, when I say mind your own business, I mean it!" she snapped.

"No, no, no, see? SEE? This is where you're wrong. You used to fight every time you were in the same room, but something is different!" Ryan said. "Simon treats everyone from Simon Fuller to me to Kathy the craft services lady like gum on the bottom of his shoe. He used to treat you like the gum on the gum on his shoe, but now he opens doors for you. He opens doors for you!"

"I'm pregnant! It's polite."

"It's Simon Cowell. Something doesn't add up here, Abdul, and if you don't tell me the truth, I'll find out another way."

"Fine, good luck with that, now get out," she said.

Ryan saluted her and disappeared out the door, but she knew while she may have come out of the battle alive, the war was far from over.

oooo

"You've got to be kidding me," Paula says.

"I am emphatically not," her Doctor said. "You can do the show this week and then complete bed rest."

"But the finale is in two weeks!" Paula said. "I have to be there."

"I know it's frustrating, but this is about the health of your baby. You have two months left and your blood pressure is just too high. I don't like it."

"The health of my baby," she said. "That's just what I'll have to tell them."

But when she got home, she couldn't bring herself to call her bosses. She was exhausted and instead stretched out on the couch in front of the TV, thinking the new could hold until morning. Even things like going to the Doctor's office took all of her energy and if she were completely honest with herself, the bed rest was not a big surprise. Inside, the baby kicked at her, shifted around until he was pressing against her bladder.

She was just coming out of the bathroom when the doorbell rang. She scowled and trudged toward the door. It was unlikely that someone she didn't know was on the other side but still, she was crabby and in her scrubby clothes. She was wearing hardly any makeup and just felt huge and terrible.

She opened the door to see Simon.

"Did you go to the doctor?" he asked. No hello or explanation of why he was there or even how he knew she had a doctor's appointment.

"Yes," she said. He stood there expectantly. "What are you doing here?"

"What did she say?" he demanded.

"Well," she said. "I can do the show this week but then I'm on bed rest."

"No!" he said.

"No finale," she confirmed.

"Paula!" he exclaimed, like it was somehow her fault. "You can't do this!"

"I can't do this?" she asked, heading for the nearest chair and setting down in it with a huff. "You think I want this?"

"No," he said.

"Did I do this to myself, Simon?" she asked.

"Well I certainly didn't do it alone," Simon shot back.

She crossed her arms over her wide stomach and glowered at him.

"Well," she said. "Now you know."

"I'll tell Nigel," Simon said. "And Fuller for you."

She wanted to let him, wanted to hand him the reins for a while but she knew she that wasn't going to happen.

"No," she sighed. "That'll just make people ask questions."

"Nigel and Simon know," Simon pointed out. "And Randy." They hadn't told him, officially, but he shared the judge's table with them. There was no way he didn't know by now.

"But everyone else doesn't and do you really want fuel the fire?" she said.

"When he's born, they're going to know," Simon said. "I mean, someday, they're all going to know."

"But not today," she said, softly. He frowned and she gave in a little. "You can drive me."

"Drive you?"

"Tomorrow morning," Paula said. "You can drive me to their offices. I don't like to drive, I feel all-" She waved her arms around to illustrate size. "And half the time I can't even remember if I have shoes on let alone where I left my car keys."

"Sure," he said. "Tomorrow, I'll be here at ten."

"Thank you," she said. "Thanks."

"You hungry?" he asked.

"Always," she said, letting her head fall back against the back of the chair.

"I'm going to get us some dinner," he said. "I'll be back in twenty minutes."

"Simon, you don't have to."

"Twenty minutes," Simon said, and walked out the door.

Paula, were she herself, would have gone upstairs to put on nicer clothes or at least run a brush through her hair, but today, she was too tired and the energy she had left was spent on moving to a location closer to the television. When Simon came back, he didn't even knock. He just walked in with a bag of Chinese food and set it on the table in front of her. He busied himself with plates and forks and when she struggled to sit up to make room for him, he helped pull her up.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

"I'm feeding the boy," Simon said.

"I know, I know, I'm just the pod for the pea," she said. "Give me that sweet and sour pork."

"Here," he said, handing her the carton. And then, "You're more than a pod."

She scoffed, mouth too full to really spar back.

"I'm serious," he said. "You're the mother. You and I made a person. That means you and I are tied together for the rest of our lives."

"Sorry," she offered.

"I'm not," he said. "I'm not mad anymore. There's no point."

"Sure."

"I'm not," he pressed. "Did I plan on this? No. Did I think it would be with you? Certainly not. But here we are and that boy that comes out of you is half mine, and if we don't start working together we're going to... royally fuck him up."

"I don't want a weird, abnormal, spoiled Hollywood baby," she said.

"Me either," he said. "I want to raise a successful genius."

"Together?" she asked.

"Together," he said. "Do you think we could try that please?"

"Okay," she said, mostly out of surprise more than anything else.

"Good," he said. "Now don't hog the pork."

"Never," she said, stabbing at him with her fork, "take food from a pregnant woman."

It was hard not to panic all the time. Even now, safe in her own home, well fed and relatively comfortable, she just barely held her fear at bay. Simon was next to her, eating Chinese food and watching the Simpsons and she didn't know what it all meant. After all, raising a child together and having a family were not always the same thing.

She put her feet on the coffee table. She couldn't exactly see them, but they felt swollen and uncomfortable.

"Are you okay?" Simon finally asked.

"This is the time of day that I start worrying about the baby coming out with thirteen fingers and a tail or blind or with some terrible disease," she confessed.

"I thought you said everything was fine."

"I did," she said. "It is, I guess, but we won't really know until he's here."

"So basically you're worrying over something you can't control?" he asked.

"I can't help it." She couldn't.

"Have you..." He paused and she braced herself. The fact that he was considering his words more carefully meant that whatever was coming was important. "Have you considered names yet?"

"Oh." He had surprised her. "A little. Nothing serious."

"I know that we didn't... I just meant... Paula, if you're going to name him something stupid, I implore you to change your mind."

"Why do you think I'm going to name him something stupid?" she said, mildly offended.

"I have no idea, but I don't want a son named Texas or Daisy Chain or Starlight Express."

"I was thinking about Peter," she said, dryly. "Too weird for you?"

"No," he said. "I'm not in love with it. Peter Cowell is kind of blah."

"That's because his name would be Peter Abdul," she corrected. He looked horrified.

"No!"

"We aren't married," she said, as if he were a particularly daft child. "He'll legally have my name on account of being inside me for all of this time."

He turned back to the television to contemplate this and momentarily looked disgusted with life. She felt a sense of satisfaction, a brief smugness but it only last for a moment.

"Do you have an idea?" she asked. "For a name, I mean."

He was quiet for a long while, playing with the lighter he kept in the pocket of his blue jeans.

"Andrew," he said, finally. He cleared his throat. "Andy, maybe, for short."

"Andy," she said with a little smile. "Andrew is nice."

"Yes," he agreed.

"I'll think about it," she promised.

The next morning, in the shower, she felt the baby move, like a tiny bird fluttering within her.

"Good morning, Andy," she said.


	5. Chapter 5

_"The beauty of the world which is so soon to perish, has two edges, one of laughter, one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder."_ \- Virginia Woolf

*

She had to call three times. The phone rang and rang until finally he answered, his voice rough and heavy on the other end of the connection.

"What."

"It's me," she said.

"It's bloody four in the morning."

"Well, I'm pretty sure it's time," she said, easing herself out of bed. Her back had been aching all day but in the last hour, the pain had turned acute and it came in predictable waves.

"Time for what?" he asked, through a big yawn.

"Jesus Christ, Simon! Time for school! Wake up!" she snapped. "The baby is coming you idiot!"

"Shit!" He was awake now. "I'll be right there."

"Thank you," she said and hung up the phone. The baby felt lower, now, pressing down on her hips, had dropped last week. She was three days past her due date and if this wasn't finally it, she was going to cut the little bastard out herself.

She put her hair up in the sloppiest ponytail of her life and didn't even bother to change her clothes. She called her doctor who promised to meet her at the hospital and reminded her to go through the service and deliveries entrance where the trucks dropped off all supplies to try to avoid the press. The media was positively foaming at the mouth trying to break the story of paternity - if she wanted to, she could sell Andy's first picture to a tabloid and have enough to put him through college.

Simon made record time and practically shoved her into the SUV.

"My water hasn't even broken," she said. "It's okay."

"Your bag is in here already," he said, ignoring her and starting the car. She could tell he was conflicted about how fast to drive - torn between rushing to the hospital and keeping everyone safe and alive. He kept speeding up and then remembering his cargo and easing his foot off the gas again.

She didn't want to worry him, but she was beginning to seriously hurt now. She gripped the arm of the door and set her teeth, screwing her eyes closed against the pain.

"You're sweating," he commented.

"I'm in labor," she huffed. What did he expect?

"Almost there," he promised. They had practiced this already - he knew exactly where to park and when they pulled in, two female nurses were waiting for her with a wheelchair.

"How are you this morning?" one of the nurses asked cheerfully.

"She's about to bloody pop," Simon snapped, helping her into the chair. "And I swear to God, if I see any details of tonight in a magazine, I'll have the whole damn hospital fired!"

"Of course, sir," the other nurse said, exchanging a glance with her co-worker. They moved in doors. Paula looked up at the nurse steering her wheelchair and mouthed 'sorry' and the woman just patted her shoulder.

oooo

Paula woke up. This was what it felt like to be hit by a bus, but then the bus came out from between her legs. It had been a minor miracle she'd given birth at all instead of having a c-section. She opened her eyes and rolled her head around. Simon was there, and next to him, their son.

"Good morning," he said, glancing at the clock. "Actually, I think it's evening."

"Is that?" She raised her hand to point but the IV restricted her arm. She had a vague memory of holding him and feeding him but everything felt blurry and faint.

"Yes," he said, standing. So carefully, Simon picked up the baby and helped him into Paula's waiting arms. He was so small! His wrinkled, crumpled face was pinched in sleep, red and squashed from the trauma of being born. But even through all of that, Paula could see that he was beautiful and perfect. And beyond that, she could see something else.

"He's perfect," she said.

"I know."

"Simon, he's going to look like you," she managed.

"You think?" Simon asked. She nodded. The jig, as they said, was up.

oooo

Season two of American Idol was set to air in January. Fox wanted to move it onto the regular schedule instead of keeping it as a summer show. Of course, that meant that they needed to leave for auditions in the summer. And traveling across the country in the heat with a baby was going to be pure torture.

Simon turned out to be more of an early riser than she thought he would be. Or maybe he'd just adjusted to accommodate his new family. He often carried Andy into her room in the morning, whimpering for the breakfast only Paula could sufficiently provide. Simon stood, this morning like the others, in her doorway like Paul Bunyan - rugged and handsome, holding the tiny, squirming boy.

Paula and Andrew had moved in with Simon almost immediately. She'd been determined to keep her independence but everything was atrociously hard, exhausting and she was lonely, even with the child, for Simon and she could not explain the feeling away. So he'd made space for them and now they all lived in close quarters - monitors, breast pumps, and a bin of soiled diapers now commonplace.

Paula's room had double doors that opened out and the nursery connected by a narrow hallway. Simon was down the corridor a bit but close enough to hear the baby cry - close enough to deliver him into the waiting arms of his mother.

The fussing slowed when Andy was reunited with his mother and eased away once his hungry mouth had latched painfully to her breast. This was the moment of the day Simon seemed most unsure about - he hovered in the room wanting to be a part of this blissful domesticity but understanding, also, that he did not quite belong. Soon, the nanny, Kathryn, would arrive - stern and Irish - to force the day to move forward.

"They're showing the house again today," Paula said if only to give Simon permission to seat him self - on the edge of the bed or, as he chose, the blond wooden rocking chair next to the window.

"Same asking price?" he inquired. She nodded, shifting slightly the weight of the baby to something more tolerable. "Good." Simon seemed always in a rush for her house to sell as if she would take his son away in the night and flee to her own real estate if she kept the property. The situation wasn't permanent, living in the house as they did, but her house sat empty, the furniture draped in heavy white cloth. She would not return to it. Everything she wanted from it was currently sitting in three storage spaces in Beverly Hills, or it was in Simon's house.

Downstairs, they heard the door open and the sturdy steps of Kathryn. Soon, she would appear at the top of the stairs and then in the doorway, her hair dark and red pulled severely into a knot at her neck, her black pants narrowing at the ankle. Every day she was the same. Andy seemed to love her well enough and she helped around the house.

Simon stood, not wanting to be caught by the help and forced to make small talk.

"I have to work today," he said and disappeared down the hall just in time.

"Good morning," Kathryn greeted. Paula was incidental - the nanny spoke only to the child who now was just dozing against his mother, warm and fed. Paula disengaged him and righted herself. Kathryn plucked the boy from Paula's arms to put him back in his crib. With no child and Simon busied away in his office, she wondered, not for the first time, what exactly she was supposed to do with herself.

oooo

Soon, they would have to pose for pictures, their son between them. They would have to go on talk shows and do press for the new season and to try to explain their lives. Somehow, they must make the careful bargain they'd struck seem quirky and inventive instead of abnormal and tedious. They would avoid the word 'accident.'

"This is life," Simon would say. But he would be charming, winking at their host as if to say, look what I've done. I've got the ball and avoided the chain.

Meanwhile, Paula would have to smile and try desperately not to feel like a whore who got caught in her lie. She couldn't be too mad. Simon had stepped up to be a father and it was more than she had any right to expect. He'd let them in and loved his son and in a way, Paula was very happy with it all.

Sometimes, when Andy was down and Kathryn gone home, she and Simon would sit together in front of some movie, the basketball game, the evening news. Alone, they didn't hold up quite so well. Paula always felt haggard and heavy - the baby weight was coming off too slowly and she knew her progress would stall completely when she stopped nursing.

Beside her on the couch, Simon would drape his arm across the back of the furniture but if felt like forced companionship. They were trying too hard.

What had brought them together in the first place? Misdirected anger, tension, a strange lust - but she wasn't mad anymore. She almost liked Simon.

He touched her thigh, pressing on it as he rose.

"I'm going to bed," he announced. She felt a slight pang - she didn't want to sit alone.

"All right," she said, instead. She watched him disappear up the stairs. She was the night owl and it wasn't even half past ten. She had at least another hour in front of her and then the night and the week and the rest of the year. This was her life now. Her beautiful son, her budding, reinvented career and her pretend relationship with backwards, fake intimacy.

oooo

Kathryn agreed to go on the road with them. Simon paid her and Paula had no idea how much and no idea what it took to get her to agree to travel. It was seven cities stretched across two months, but Paula and Simon both had to go and Paula couldn't imagine leaving Andy behind for any amount of time.

"It really is a family show now," Ryan had said at the final meeting before they left, his face aglow - proud of his little joke. He was hosting alone this year and high off the knowledge that he would be the face of the show.

Now, Paula stared at the suitcases by the door and counted them one last time. They were leaving for four days - how could there be six? Two were hers, Simon had a duffel bag and Kathryn's stuff wasn't down yet. One baby meant three suitcases. Plus a diaper bag?

"Here's your momma," Kathryn said, coming down the stairs with Andy on her hip.

"Come here, baby," Paula said, taking him. Andy's face was warm and red - he was just up from his nap. He nuzzled into her. In a few moments would want to eat but for right now, he was content to be held by his mother.

"All right," Kathryn said. "I'll be here at six am tomorrow."

"Thank you," Paula said. "It'll be fun!" Kathryn shot her a look before walking out the door. Usually, Paula found her sternness comforting... until it was directed at her.

Simon wasn't home and Kathryn was gone for the night, so she patted Andy's back softly.

"Just you and me, kid," Paula said, planting a kiss on the top of his head. "You ready for a quiet evening, just the two of us?"

Andy yawned.

oooo

Simon walked into the house to the sound of his son wailing. He paused in the doorway, considering his options. It would be too easy to just scoot himself upstairs and let Paula handle what sounded like a serious meltdown, but when she figured out later that he'd avoided them - and she would - she might murder him with her bare hands. He sighed, rubbing his face, and walked into the kitchen.

"What's the matter?" he asked. Paula looked frazzled. Andy was crying in her arms. She had a blanket over her shoulder, a bottle in one hand and a stuffed bear in the other.

"I have no idea," she said. "He's been crying for two hours. I changed him, I fed him, I rocked him, I put him down, I picked him back up, I sang, I danced." She pushed the baby into Simon's arms. "He's your son, you figure it out. I'm going to take a bath."

Upstairs, Paula sat on the closed toilet lid and pressed her face into her hands. She tuned out everything but the sound of the water falling against the porcelain. She knew that somewhere downstairs Simon was probably cursing her name, but she just needed twenty minutes to herself. It was selfish, yes, but she tried not to think about that as she peeled off her clothes and stepped into the tub, pulling the curtain forward to trap in the heat.

Gone were her flat and rock hard abs. She poked the loose skin disdainfully. She had lost a lot of the weight, but she was round in places she'd never been round before, even in her heavier days. She sighed and closed her eyes, sinking down lower into the water. Just a few minutes of being warm and alone and then she could go back out and face those boys.

There was a knock at the door. So much for alone.

"What?" she called. The knob turned and she knew Simon poked his head in. Since the curtain was drawn, she didn't immediately order him away.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"Where's Andy?" She poked her head around the curtain. He had the baby monitor in his hand.

"I put him in that chair thing that vibrates and he shut right up," Simon said. "He's in the nursery."

"Why didn't I think of that?" she muttered, sinking back into the tub. He took up the seat on the closed toilet, she could see a faint outline of him.

"You okay?"

"Yes," she said. "No. I don't know. I'm not sure I'm cut out for this."

"For what?"

"Motherhood!" she said. She could already feels the tears coming - the warble in her voice. "I can't make him happy!"

"That's nonsense," Simon said. "He adores you."

"Because I'm his 24-hour buffet," she said. "I don't know how women do it, women who have two or three kids and work and can't afford nannies. I feel so inadequate."

"If you're inadequate then this kid is doomed because I'm worse off than you," Simon said.

"Simon!"

"Sorry, sorry," he said. She pulled her knees up and made herself small in the tub; the water sloshed around her. "All new parents feel this way."

"How do you know?" she asked.

"Because what we're doing is terrifying," Simon said. "Because there is no training for this. We made a person and now that person depends on us completely."

"Can you see anything on the monitor?" she asked.

"He's fine," Simon said. "And you and I are fine too, we're doing fine. Babies cry."

"I know," she said. "Thanks, Simon."

"Any time," he said. She waited for the sound of him retreating but it didn't come.

"Simon, get out now," she said.

"Right, right," he said, standing. "I'll be in the office if you need me."

When he was gone, Paula yanked the plug from the tub and sat until the water was low. Her twenty minutes were past up. She went to the nursery, her robe belted tightly around her, to check on Andy and was surprised to find that he wasn't strapped into his vibrating chair - he wasn't even there. Fear pricked at her neck and she rushed down the hall toward the office to find Simon. She passed the open doors to her bedroom and paused.

Simon was in the rocking chair, Andy in his arms.

"Hey," she said, softly.

"I don't have a rocking chair," he said.

"It's fine," she said, coming in and sitting on the edge of her mattress.

"You ready for tomorrow?" he asked.

"I suppose," Paula said, pulling her feet beneath her. "It will be different."

"We're a hit, now."

"I meant the baby," she said.

"I know." He looked down at the baby. "Paula, I..." He struggled with the words.

"It's okay," she said. "I get it."

He exhaled a shaky breath and stroked Andy's forehead softly with his index finger.

oooo

"You are terrible," Simon said, tossing down his pen with a note of finality. "I mean, just awful."

"I can sing." The girl that stood in front of them was trying to sound defiant but Paula could see that she was already breaking.

"Honey, no," Randy said, shaking his head. "Singing isn't your thing."

"Let's vote," Simon said. "Randy, yes or no?"

"Please," the girl begged. "I need this, I can sing something else, please."

"No, no, do not sing again," Simon said.

"Please, I have a little girl to raise," she said. "Can I show you my little girl?"

"No," Simon said.

"Sure," Paula said. "Bring her in."

Simon rolled his eyes. The door to the waiting room opened and what had to be the girl's mother carried in a toddler in a bright purple dress.

"Aww," Randy said. "What a cute baby."

At the sight of the judges and the lights and the cameras, the girl started to whimper and then cry, reaching for her mother. Paula gasped and quickly crossed her arms.

"What?" Simon asked. She leaned into him.

"Get them out of here," she hissed.

"Okay, we got the whole family here," Simon said. "I vote no, Randy?"

"Cute family, but no."

"Paula?"

"No, sorry," she said. As soon the contestant cleared, she stood up. "Can we have five?"

"We got a whole room out there," Nigel said, pushing his glasses onto his head.

"Well I'm about to leak through this blouse," she said.

"What?" Nigel asked and then his face furrowed. "Never mind. Let's take fifteen."

Simon walked with her to the dressing room where Kathryn was waiting with the baby.

"What set you off?" he asked. "Usually you have another 40 minutes before he eats."

"A baby girl crying," she sighed. "But Andy has yet to turn down meal time so we'll see." She walked, holding her shirt away from her body. It would screw up filming if she changed clothes in the middle of the day. Paula told the nanny to go get something from craft services and she settled down into the sofa of the dressing room. "You going to stay?"

"If you don't mind," Simon said.

"You don't want a cigarette break?" she asked, undoing the blouse. Andy latched on right away, and she winced before they settled into a familiar rhythm.

"Seriously?" Simon asked.

"What?"

"I haven't smoked in two months," he said. "I can't believe you haven't noticed!"

"Well, sorry, but I've been slightly distracted," she said.

"I get up every three hours too, you know," he said. "I'm not just a roommate, I'm his father."

"I'm not saying you don't help, Simon, I'm just saying that I've been too busy to notice how often you step out of the room!"

"I did it for you and Andrew!"

"And we appreciate it!" she hissed.

"Clearly," he scoffed.

"I don't want to fight in front of you know who," she said.

"God forbid he break your complex secret code," Simon snapped.

"Why are you doing this right now?" she asked.

"Because listening to this is making me grouchy," Simon said. "Because I could be at home with you and our son but instead he's with the nanny and we're listening to people screech Mariah Carey songs all day."

"I miss him, too," she said. She shifted him over to the other breast. The need to hide this process from Simon had long since faded. At first, she hadn't wanted him to see her breasts - after all, they were quite different from the first time he'd seen them, but this wasn't about nudity or sex, it was about family and she honestly didn't mind any longer. And he didn't stare or make lascivious comments. "No one says we have to keep doing this."

"Just our contracts," he said. "We both signed on for two more years."

"Well," she said. "Contracts aren't law."

"It's not the show," he said, moving to sit next to her so he could stick his finger into Andy's grasping hand. "It's just that life seems different."

"Life is different," she said. "I'm sorry it wasn't what you thought it would be."

"I'm not." He didn't hesitate to say it.

When Kathryn didn't come back after twenty minutes, Simon carried Andy out to the set with Paula beside him.

"Anyone seen our nanny?" he asked, amidst the cooing of the crew.

"Loo," called Nigel. Simon sat down, sitting the baby on the table in front of him. Andy was four and a half months, now, and reached for the Coke cup, which Paula deftly moved out of reach. "Roll cameras!"

"What?" Paula asked, whipping around. "Why?"

"This is TV gold," he said. "Simon with a baby? Your baby? It's precious."

"If I see one second of footage of this boy on TV, your ass is mine, do you hear me? MINE," Paula said. "CUT THE DAMN FILM."

"Whoa, momma bear," Randy said. Paula grabbed her son just as Kathryn appeared, looking for them.

"What does it matter?" Simon asked, confused. "His picture has already shown up in the rags."

"Because," she said. "You and I signed on for this, but he's just a baby. I don't want some whack job knowing exactly what he looks like!"

"I'll take him," Kathryn said. Andy clung to his mother, whimpering but Kathryn ignored this, prying his fingers from Paula's hair with a practiced hand.

"We'll see you later, buddy," Simon said.

"Bye bye, sugar," Paula said. "Mommy and Daddy love you."

"You two are doing it," Ryan said. He'd been lurking in the background for some time.

"Nigel," Paula said, stomping her foot. "Get him out of here."

Because the truth of the matter was, Paula hadn't slept with anyone since Simon - which was well before the baby was born. In fact, it had been about a year. The realization shook her slightly. That was a long time, but life simply hadn't allowed it and it didn't allow for it now. She was so tired all the time. Just that morning, she'd fallen asleep in the makeup chair. Her makeup artist had told her it had made his job easier; they'd laughed but she'd been slightly embarrassed. When did she have time to find a man and who would take her on now?

"Go get the next one," Nigel ordered and Ryan disappeared while the judges righted themselves at their table.

"Ryan is a wanker," Simon said. "Ignore him."

"Fine," she agreed. As the parade of hopefuls came in and out, however, she found herself fixated on Ryan's accusations. To Paula and Simon, they had agreed on a compromise, a solution to an unanticipated life complication but to the outside world, how did they appear? As a family. Why shouldn't people side with Ryan? Their claims of living separate lives under a single roof came off as ridiculous.

And to say she hadn't thought of Simon in that way would be untrue. She lived with him, saw him every day and the way he interacted with Andy made her heart leap for him. It was as if by loving Andy, Simon loved her as well.

"Paula?" Simon said. "Yes or no?"

She had no idea. The man in front of them was young and attractive but she had no recollection of him singing. Looking at Randy and Simon offered no help - they were expressionless, waiting for her. She cleared her throat.

"No," she said. "Sorry."

"Really?" Simon asked.

"Why?" Randy demanded.

"He just wasn't memorable enough." It wasn't exactly a lie.

"I say yes, so you're through anyway," Simon said. "Congratulations." Paula blushed, but held her ground.

oooo

They shared a suite. It wouldn't be true of every hotel, but in this city, New York City, they did. There were separate bedrooms, but a common living space with a kitchenette. Simon came in much later than Paula. He smelled like beer but wasn't drunk, so Paula didn't say anything about it. Paula and Andy were on the floor with a large blanket spread beneath them. There were toys around them, but Andy was on his back, asleep.

"Hey," she said. "You and the boys have fun?"

"Eh," he said. Simon wouldn't admit to liking his colleagues.

"I was just about to put him down," she said.

"I'll do it," he offered. "Haven't seen him much today."

"Sure," she said. "His crib is in my room." Simon picked him up easily, but carefully as not to wake him. When he came back a few minutes later, he had the monitor.

"Have you eaten?" he said. "Shall I order dinner?"

"Okay," she said. Amiable Simon she didn't argue with. He could be out anywhere with some young girl but instead he was home with them. While he put in the order, she cleaned up the baby mess, piling the blanket and toys on an empty chair. It wasn't until they were eating that he asked.

"Why did you say no earlier?" he asked. "To what's his name. Sam? Sean? Steve?"

"Tyler. I wasn't paying attention," she admitted. "I figured we say no more often than yes, so..."

He laughed. "I knew it!" She rolled her eyes as if she didn't believe him or didn't care. "You were too busy thinking about what Ryan said."

"Get out of my head, Simon." He grinned. "Speaking of, I haven't seen any lovely young things on your arm lately."

"Haven't seen any man on yours," he countered. She guffawed.

"Yeah, right." She stabbed at her salad with her fork. "I barely have energy to get through the day. How am I supposed to date with a four-month-old? I'll get used to being alone."

"To tell you the truth, I feel the same way," he said. "Suddenly having a twenty five-year-old hanging around doesn't seem like a good idea."

"Simon, have I ever thanked you for doing such a good job with Andy?" she asked.

"Let's see, you've lied about my paternity, avoided me during your pregnancy, and been furious with me for getting you pregnant through consensual sex... nope, no thanking," he said.

"Okay, okay, I get it," she said. "But really, I thought you'd just throw money at me and show up for the photo op and you didn't do that you... you're always here, you love him."

"Of course I love him," Simon said. "Of course I do, he's my son."

"I know but there's a difference between love and... effort. And you give both." She reached out and took his hand. "Thank you, Simon."

"My dad and I didn't always get along, but I miss him," Simon said. "And I wouldn't want Andy to grow up without a father."

He took his hand back, and glanced at the monitor but they didn't hear anything.

"Having a family means you don't ever have to be alone again," Simon said.

She nodded, thinking he was just indulging her.

oooo

"Shh, shh, shh," Paula said, bouncing the baby against her. They were in the third city, Detroit, but she only knew this because of her call sheet. It wasn't as if they had time to sightsee. Andy was sick of traveling, she thought, sick of airplanes and strangers and being away from mom and dad all day. It was less fun than the previous season, in some ways, because traveling was a circus, but at least she wasn't pregnant and living in constant fear. That had to be some consolation.

Andy, though, was not so easily consoled. He whimpered - he wasn't crying real tears, but he was just unsettled and unhappy. He didn't want to nurse and wouldn't take his bottle or his pacifier. She'd changed him, held him, sang to him but he was just not having it. She tried, hoping against hope, to put him back in the crib thinking maybe it was her that Andy was sick of, but as soon as she stepped back, Andy's whimpers turned into a long, loud, and piercing cry.

Across the way, Simon's light came on. Paula just let the baby cry for a moment. She couldn't bring herself to pick him up again. She felt the light brush of Simon's hand on her back as he came to the rescue.

"I'll take him," Simon said. "Go sleep in my bed, I have it."

She should have argued with him, but instead she took him at his word and walked across the hall, falling easily into the bed, insulating herself in the dip left warm from his body.

She woke up when her alarm went off. She could just hear it from across the way but she was careful not to move because somehow she knew that the baby was with her. She looked over to see Andy sleeping. Simon must have put him next to her because there was a wall of pillows on his other side. Both doors to the bedroom were open and she could see Simon's arm reach out and silence her portable alarm clock. She let her hand rest lightly above Andy's back - she wasn't touching him because she's learned enough to know one does not wake a sleeping baby, but she could feel the heat rising from him.

"When is Kathy getting here?" Simon asked softly a couple minutes later, standing in the door.

"You know she hates when you call her that," Paula said, getting out of the bed. If Simon looked so tired, she must look like hell.

"I know," he said.

"She'll be here any minute," Paula said. From the bed, Andy made a noise. Paula sighed. "Not soon enough." She leaned over and picked up him, hoping some cuddling would stave off any crying. Simon walked up to them. He kissed Andy's forehead, he kissed Paula's forehead, and went into the bathroom to shower. She stood surprised for a few moments, looking at the closed door. She might have stood there for his entire shower had the knock on the door not come. But life marched forward and she had to go let her nanny in.

"Have you nursed him yet?" Kathryn tended to cut right to the chase.

"No," she said.

"Go do it," Kathryn ordered, looking at her watch. "We're already late."

"You're late," Paula grumbled, walking back into Simon's room and crawling up into the bed. She liked his bed better, there was better light and didn't face the common area where Kathryn had already turned on Good Morning America. She had Andy to her breast when Simon came out wrapped in his towel. She had a light blue blanket thrown over her, mostly because it was chilly in the room, but Simon didn't seem to mind, pulling the towel from around his waist to rub over his hair.

"Geeze!" She said, turning her head away. "Right here!"

"Nothing you haven't seen, pet," he said, totally unconcerned.

"Simon!"

"I see you half naked every day," he said, wrapping the towel back around his hips.

"The upper half!" she said. "Not the full Monty."

"Americans," he grumbled.

"And mine is natural and beautiful and an expression of life," she said. "Yours is balls. Wrinkly balls." He laughed, really laughed.

"Is the view nice from up there, Lady Madonna?"

"Quite," she said. Beneath the blanket, Andy started to fuss.

"Give him here," Simon said. "Go shower. I hate being late every day." She tucked herself away and crawled off the bed. He patted her butt as she went. She paused to look at him, eyebrow raised, but he was already too busy blowing into Andy's stomach to see her indignant expression, and anyway, she didn't really mean it.

oooo

The last city was Austin and everyone had high hopes, after finding Kelly in Texas. Even Andy seemed resigned to this nomadic life by this point. He was used to new places and to staffers holding him. When he got fussy, Kathryn would bring him out to watch the filming and he would quiet right down, watching his parents with big eyes. While he loved Simon, it was obvious enough, it was Paula that the boy adored. He would reach out for her, bang his fat hand against the monitor over her face making delighted noises. And when the day was done, she would take him into her arms and he would light up. Paula had been scared like any new mother, but she took to motherhood like a duck to water.

In Austin, Simon and Paula had hotel rooms that connected. When they'd checked in, they'd opened the shared door and it never closed again. After the final day of shooting, they returned to the rooms, exhausted. The crew, Ryan and Randy were taking the red eye back to L.A. but with a baby, Paula had put her foot down. They would spend the night and leave in the morning. She was not about to take a cranky baby on a midnight flight.

Paula spend time packing up her suitcases, the things that Andy didn't need at the moment or in the morning, and then moved on to Simon's case. Simon could pack his own things, but this round of auditions had taught them that she was just better at it - it went faster and nothing was left forgotten. She was folding his jeans, talking to her sister on the phone.

"We'll be home in the morning," she said. "Well, probably in the afternoon."

"I haven't seen him in too long," Wendy said. "I can't wait for Saturday."

"Saturday?" she asked, furrowing her brow.

"Your birthday party?" Wendy said.

"Right," Paula sighed. "And there's nothing I can say to dissuade you from having it?"

"Nope."

"Not even that my birthday was over a month ago?"

"You were gone!" Wendy said. "And it's an excuse to see Andrew."

"Fine," she said, trying to zip up the suitcase with one hand.

"Besides, Simon's mother already said she was coming, it'd seem cruel to cancel now," Wendy said.

"Simon's mom is coming?" she asked.

"He didn't tell you?" Wendy asked.

"Hang on," she said, holding the phone close to her chest. "Si? Is your mom coming to my birthday party?"

"Oh," called back. "Right. Mum's coming to your party!"

"Thanks," she muttered. "Fine, but I'm not doing any work except for showing up."

"Fine," Wendy said. "I can't wait to see that teeny tiny boy! Where is he now?"

"In the other room with Simon," Paula said. "Simon got him that DVD, you know, of my videos, like six of them and when he puts it on, Andy is so quiet. He goes right to sleep after it's done."

"He knows his momma," Wendy said.

"I guess," Paula said. "I'm just surprised Simon hasn't snapped the thing in half yet."

"Watching you dance around half naked can't be that difficult for him," Wendy scoffed. Paula moved to the door and shut it.

"So, Simon's been kind of... affectionate lately," she said, her voice a little softer.

"Really?" Wendy said, though she drew the word out like she wasn't surprised to hear the news.

"Yeah, like, he totally touched my butt the other day and he kisses my cheek all the time now. I don't know, I guess that might be a European thing," she said.

"Or you birthed his child and that's a deep connection," Wendy said.

"We've talked about you using the word 'birthed'," Paula scolded. "Stop it."

"I'm just saying," Wendy said. "Even if intellectually he isn't attracted to you, hormonally and emotionally, you're his mate."

"I'm sorry, when did you get a degree in anthropology?" Paula asked. "Oh, that's right. Never."

"I think he's attracted to you intellectually as well, for the record," Wendy said, as if Paula had said nothing. "I mean it's not like that baby was conceived by magic."

"Oh, gosh, look at the time," Paula said. "Gotta go."

"One day, when you and Simon end up in bed together, you'll think of this moment and know that I am a genius."

"Bye," Paula said. She hung up and tossed the phone on the bed before going out to see Andy's eyes growing heavy. 'Promise of a New Day' was playing on the screen so the DVD was almost over. Simon was watching it too.

"Did you change him?" she asked.

"Mmm," Simon said.

"Simon?" He looked up, as if startled.

"Oh, uh, yeah," he said. "Sorry."

"Are you staring at my breasts?" she teased.

"Well they're all wet and out there for the world to see!" he complained, shutting the TV off.

"They'll never look like that again," she said, picking the baby up.

"I know, now they're bigger," Simon said with a grin.

"Why are you flirting with me?" she asked, seriously.

"I'm not... I don't know, it's fun," he said.

"We had an agreement," she said. "I told you I didn't care if you dated and I meant that."

"I know what you said."

"So?" she said. "Why don't you?"

"Why don't you?" he retorted. She sighed and swayed in place, rocking the baby.

"I'm busy."

"Maybe, just maybe, it's because we're happy like this," he said. "We could try to be a real family, you know. What could it hurt?"

"You don't love me," she said. "And this isn't a TV movie, Simon. We can't just make mistakes anymore, we have a kid."

"I love this," he said, motioning toward Andy. "I love you as a mother. I love the way you love our son. I love how you treat us and I love how he loves you."

"That isn't the same as being in love and you know it," she said.

"Maybe not," he said. "But think about how you'd feel if I actually and truly brought some woman home."

She frowned, her face burning. It would be awful, of course, but she can't admit to that now.

"I'm going to bed," she said. "We have an early flight."

"It's ten o'clock," he said. She didn't care; she walked through the door and put Andy in his crib. But as soon as he was settled, she felt bad and went back into the other room where Simon was.

"I'm sorry," she said. "You were being nice and I bit off your head."

"It's all right," he said. "Things will feel better when we're home. We'll have our own space again."

"Yeah," she said. She hesitated for a moment but then went to sit next to him on the little love seat. "It's not as if I don't think about it, but you and I really can't afford to make any more mistakes."

"You're right," he agreed. "We would probably drive each other mad."

"We get along so well right now," she confirmed. "Let's not screw that up."

"Sure," he said. She patted his knee and went to bed.


	6. Chapter 6

_"Love is a puzzle_  
_Some pieces they adjoin_  
_It's not like that with us_  
_But I keep flipping that coin"_  
\- Ani Difranco

*

Paula was sitting by the pool in the backyard, holding a glass of cranberry juice. They were having her party at Simon's because it was just easier for everyone to come to them, and people were milling around both in and out of the house. She could always tell where Andy was by looking for the biggest knot of people. Also, anytime she actually saw her son, one of his grandmother's was holding him. Lorraine and Julie traded off with no complaints but Paula could see on both their faces that they were just waiting to have the boy back in their arms.

"I got you a present," Simon said, sitting down next to her. She'd been alone for only a moment but was happy see Simon anyway.

"You got me flowers on the day," Paula said, taking the small box. "And I don't think it's time to open them yet."

"Yeah, you know how I hate an audience," he said.

"Rich," she said. "That's rich."

"Just open it, for Christ's sake."

"Okay," she said. She tore the pink paper off and saw a black, velvet box. She was nervous, now. Jewelry was an intimate gift and she had tried to be clear the week before - they couldn't do anything to compromise the peace they held for Andy. She glanced at him nervously, but opened the box. "Oh. Oh, Simon." She could already feel the tears - she cried at a drop of the hat these days.

"Go on then," he said, embarrassed.

In the box was a delicate gold chain with a pendent of gold letter's that spelled out "Andy" in a simple cursive. It was small, but lovely.

"Thank you," she said.

"I thought about getting my name, but I thought you might actually like this one."

"I do," she said. "I love it. Will you help me put it on?" He took the box and took the necklace out while she gathered up her hair and held it so he could fasten the clasp. It sat right between her collarbones.

"Lovely," he declared. Julie came up to them with Andy.

"He needs a nappy change," she said.

"Are your hands broken?" Simon asked.

"Simon!" Paula said, and stood up. "I'll take him. It's time for his nap anyway."

"I'll go too," Simon said. "Hold down the fort, mother."

They went upstairs where it was quiet and free of people. It was warm out, but the house was cool and the tile felt nice against Paula's bare feet. Paula changed his diaper and put him in his crib. Simon rubbed his belly for a moment.

"Have a good sleep, buddy," he said. They closed the nursery door behind them. The monitor was in Paula's room so they popped in to get it. Simon slipped it into his pocket - it was slim enough.

"I really do like my necklace," she said, touching her throat. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said, facing her. He touched the cool metal with his finger lightly.

"Simon," she said uneasily. She swallowed. His face was close to hers and then - though she couldn't say how it happened exactly - they were kissing.

A little voice in her head was telling to stop and push him away but there was a louder, buzzing sound that was drowning that voice out. It didn't feel exactly familiar but it also didn't feel wrong and when the tip of his tongue touched the tip of hers, her mouth opened a little bit more.

"Paula?" Wendy's voice floated up from the downstairs foyer. "Where are you? It's time for cake."

The kiss broke.

"I'll be right there," she called, and her voice was surprisingly steady.

"See?" he whispered. "The world didn't end."

"I got pregnant at 40," she whispered back. "You don't think that was a bad omen?"

"You think it was?" he asked. She didn't - she just thought it poor timing. She shook her head no.

"It's cake time," she said instead.

"Okay," he said. They went downstairs and she tried to not look guilty, smiling brightly at her sister.

"I can just have a small piece," she said. "I still have seven pounds to lose."

"You'll eat what I give you," Wendy said, her tone merry but her face leaving no room for argument. Paula didn't have it in her to complain, she was too busy still thinking about kissing Simon and when she finally met her sister's eyes again, Wendy was looking at them oddly. Simon didn't give her a chance to ask. He put the monitor in Wendy's hands.

"You're on baby duty, sister," he said.

"Okay!" Wendy said, pleased.

"I don't need to stay for the cake and singing and all that, right?" he asked Paula. She absently touched her necklace again.

"No," she said, and really meant it. "Go on. I'll see you later." He swooped down and kissed her cheek before grabbing his keys and coat and heading out.

When the party was over, it was only Paula, Wendy, and the grandmothers. Julie seemed unconcerned that Simon had split.

"That's Simon," she'd said and the subject had been closed. Lorraine held a bottle to Andy's mouth while Paula and Wendy cleaned the kitchen up. Julie had stayed with them for a bit but then excused herself to her room, citing lingering jet lag.

Paula stretched plastic wrap over what was left of the chocolate cake and put it into the fridge.

"You guys really don't have to stay," Paula said.

"You shouldn't have to clean up from your own party," her mother said.

"I can just put the food away and the housekeeper will do the rest," Paula said. Lorraine frowned at this but held her tongue. At this point, Paula had been famous for longer than she hadn't, and arguing with having money was a losing battle for Lorraine.

"Well," said Wendy, wiping her hands on her jeans. "If you ever want me to take Andy for the night so you and Simon can have some time alone, I'd be happy to do it."

"Why on earth would we need time alone?" Paula asked. She knew exactly what her sister was doing - fishing for relationship information, but Paula wasn't going to bite.

"A night in without the baby?" Lorraine said. "I would've paid good money for that when you were young. And time alone with Harry? Forget about it."

"Simon and I don't need to be alone," Paula reiterated. "But if I need a sitter, you'll be my first call."

oooo

Simon came in late. Andy had been asleep for a few hours, and Paula was in bed with the television on. She wasn't watching anything in particular - just flipping back and forth between a couple of shows but mostly she was trying to get tired enough to actually fall asleep. And when Simon was gone, she subconsciously waited to hear him come in before she could really fall asleep.

"You're awake," he said.

"Yeah," she said. "Couldn't sleep." She didn't ask where he had been or who he had been with - she continually had to remind herself that Simon didn't owe her anything he didn't already give. For all she knew, he'd been working at the office.

"What are we watching?" he asked, coming into the room and settling into the rocking chair on the far side of her bed.

"I keep flipping back between a re-run of Law &amp; Order and Ally McBeal," she said.

"Isn't there a movie on or something?" he asked.

"Armageddon started like an hour ago on FX," she said.

"Ooh, put it on."

"It's late, aren't you tired?" she asked, digging for the remote in the covers.

"Yeah," he said, but made no move to leave so she put on the movie and turned off the lamp and they sat in the darkness together while the movie played out.

oooo

She woke up to him snoring. It took her a moment to realize who was in her room and where the noise was coming from. Simon had fallen asleep in rocking chair though how she didn't know. It couldn't have been comfortable. She muted the television climbed out of bed. She checked in on Andy who was sound asleep and then went back to her room and stood in front of Simon with her hands on her hips.

"Simon."

Nothing happened. She nudged him with her foot.

"Simon." The snoring stopped and she thought she heard a mumbled apology. "Honey, wake up and go to bed."

Simon sat up and then cursed, his hand on his neck.

"You all right?"

"Why it God's name would you let me fall asleep here?" he asked, rubbing at the kink that was undoubtedly causing him all sorts of pain.

"Go to bed," she said again.

"My mum is asleep in my bed," he said.

"What about the guest room?" she demanded.

"There's something off about the bed frame," he said. "I put her suitcase on the bed and one of the legs came off and the whole thing sort of... anyway, I've been sleeping on that leather couch in my office."

"Well if you would have told me this, I would have gotten the bed fixed or replaced," she said.

"Probably."

"Sleep in my bed," she said tiredly. "I'm going to go downstairs and pump for a while."

"And when you're done?" he asked, already kicking off his shoes and headed for his mattress.

"I'm not even tired," she said. "The sun will be up in a few hours."

"Come kick me out when you're ready," he said, pulling her blanket over his head. "Seriously."

Downstairs, she turned on the TV and pumped out breast milk. When she was in the kitchen putting the bottle into the refrigerator, she decided that while she was there, she might as well finish the washing up from the party. By the time Julie came downstairs holding a fussy baby boy, the sun was rising and Paula was putting on the coffee.

"Good morning," she said, taking the boy from her. "Did he wake you up? I'm sorry."

"It's perfectly all right," Julie said. "I didn't mind at all."

"There's a bottle in the door of the fridge," she said. "I'll heat it up if you want to feed him."

"I would love to," Julie said. Paula handed the baby back and Julie sat down at one of the chairs around the kitchen table. Andy was well into his bottle when Simon came down, lured by the smell of brewing coffee. "Good morning, love."

"Morning, Mum," he said. He said nothing to Paula but squeezed her elbow as he walked by her to get coffee.

Paula looked around at their sleepy morning tableau and felt a bubbling of happiness inside. Even though it wasn't real, in moments like this, she really felt like she was a part of a family.

oooo

Simon was driving Andy to his six-month check up. Generally, Paula took Andy to the doctor, but she was busy with appointments all day and didn't like Kathryn to do a job a parent should do. So here they were, driving down the freeway in Paula's car. Andy's car seat either didn't fit into the seats of any of his sports cars or the sports car didn't even have a backseat. Of course, the knowledge that Paula was somewhere driving around in his Ferrari was stressing him out more than the baby crying behind him. They'd all been nursing a cold over the last few days and it was causing everyone to be a little cranky, especially Andy.

"I know, buddy," Simon said. "You want your mom."

Andy hiccuped and whimpered.

"I want your mom, too," Simon said, pouting into the mirror.

Across town, Paula was leaving a meeting with her talent agency. She was rummaging through her purse for the unfamiliar car keys that had sunk to the bottom, somewhere underneath her wallet, her checkbook, her sunglasses, and about three pacifiers.

"I'm Conner." A hand moved into her line of vision and she looked up at the man attached to it. "Macaulay Conner, but everyone just calls me Conner."

"What can I do for you, Mr. Conner?" she asked, finally retrieving the keys, hooked onto one finger.

"I'm new here," he said, smiling. He was handsome and well dressed and easily ten years younger than her. "I just wanted to introduce myself - I know there was a lot of us in that meeting."

"I've been with this agency a while and you all like to put on a good show of power," Paula said, hefting her bag onto her shoulder. "Which is fine until I have to learn all of your names."

"Ouch," he said. "You're much nicer on TV."

"I have to go," she said, smiling. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Conner."

"I'll walk you out," he said, keeping step with her.

"That isn't necessary," she said. "You're not even my agent."

"We're all family here," he said, holding the door open for her. They stepped out into the sunshine and she slipped on her sunglasses. She unlocked the car with the remote. He whistled. "Nice ride."

"Thank you," she said.

"So, Ms. Abdul, what do you say you and I get a drink tonight?" he asked, leaning on the car.

"You don't do your research very well," Paula said.

"You aren't single?" he asked.

"I have a six month old baby," she said.

"Some people like kids," he countered. "I do."

"That's sweet, but no thank you," Paula said. Conner's smile faltered - he clearly wasn't used to being turned down.

"Paula..."

"And if you scratch my baby daddy's car, he's going to have you killed," she said. "See you later."

When she got home, Simon was asleep on the couch with Andy asleep on his chest. She admired the picture for a moment - Andy was really starting to look like Simon, it was uncanny. She touched Andy's head lightly but he didn't feel warm. He also didn't usually sleep this time of day and she suspected that the Doctor had given him something for his cold that knocked him out. She touched Simon's forehead next and then his cheek.

"That's nice," he said, groggily.

"You have a fever," she said.

"My head hurts."

"I'll bet," she said. "I'm going to put him down and bring you some medicine." She took the baby. When she came back, she had a glass of water and some pills for him. He took the pills and fell back to sleep. When he woke up again, he could hear Paula cooking dinner in the kitchen and humming. He could recognize the song she was singing - Elton John was one of the few artists they could both listen to and not fight over.

"_And I thank the Lord there's people out there like you, I thank the Lord there's people out there like you_ \- yeah you like that song baby? Oh honey, you have that all over your face, yes you do."

He could lie there for the rest of the night and listen to her and be perfectly happy. He could see Andy was in his high chair in the kitchen near her, the tray in front of him covered with applesauce. He was covered too. Simon felt a little dizzy when he stood up, but better than before. Andy was babbling to himself, stringing together nonsensical noises. When Simon appeared in his line of vision, he got louder and banged his hands onto the tray with smile. Particles of applesauce went flying.

"You're up!" Paula said. "How do you feel?"

"Knackered," he said. "But better."

"Good," she said. "Dinner will be ready in half an hour if you're hungry."

"I am," he said.

"Do you feel up to giving him a bath?" she asked. "As you can see he's..."

"All right," Simon said. "When's Kathryn back on?"

"Tomorrow morning," she said. "Why?"

He shrugged, carefully removing the tray and setting it on the corner of the counter. "Just haven't seen her lately."

"I try not to have her here if I really don't need her," Paula said. "I don't want to be one of the celebrity moms who never see their kid."

"You aren't that," Simon said. Paula handed him the box of baby wipes and Simon got the big chunks off before picking Andy up.

"Use my tub," she said. "All his stuff is in there."

Paula's room when she first moved in had seemed daunting. What had once been a sterile guest room, albeit a nice one, had suddenly become different - it had become alive. In just a few hours, she'd made the room cozy and lived in. Simon preferred a sterile environment - clean white surfaces and big windows that let in lots of light but now that Paula was here, things had changed little by little. A brightly colored throw blanket over the back of his cream couch, dark red place mats on the formal dining room table, lush gold curtains in her room. And surprisingly, Simon found he liked the changes quite a lot. Instead of feeling like a guest in the rented palatial manor, it felt like a home. Andy's room was blue and white with navy accents - there were pictures of sailboats on the wall.

In Paula's bathroom, all the towels were dark green. The tub was too big for any normal sized human, so there was a plastic bin to use for Andy but standing in the bathroom, Simon realized that the easiest thing to do would be to just get in with him. So, turning on the water, that's what he did. The water had to be a lot cooler than he was used to and at a much shallower depth, but Andy seemed to enjoy the experience, splashing the water and looking up at Simon with his deep brown eyes. When Paula came to check on the situation, she clapped gleefully.

"I'm getting my camera," she squealed, rushing into the other room. Simon most emphatically did not want his picture taken but knew he couldn't get out of the tub fast enough to stop her.

"Please don't," he pleaded when she returned.

"We have to have something to show his first girlfriend," she argued. "Ooh, use the shampoo to give him a little Mohawk."

"He doesn't have enough hair and the hair he does have is curly," Simon said, trying to arrange the top of his son's soapy head. "Courtesy of his mother."

"Okay, that's one gene from me and the rest from you. I'm sorry, did we conceive him or clone him?" she said, snapping a few pictures. Seemingly satisfied, she sat down on the edge of the tub and used her cupped hand to rinse Andy's head.

"You don't care that I'm naked here?" he asked.

"You're the naked person I care about least in this tub," she said, sticking her tongue out. "Besides, you saw me push him out of my... I can see you in the bath without alerting the media."

"How romantic," he said.

"Dinner is ready when you're done," she said, lifting the baby out of the tub and into a towel.

"Wait," he said. "Are we going to talk about that kiss or not?"

She rubbed her forehead, looking at herself in the mirror.

"You know how this argument ends," she said. "Can't we just skip and go eat dinner?"

"Fine," he said. "We'll talk about it later. She rolled her eyes and took her swaddled baby and left him be.

Simon didn't mention it again until Andy was in bed. Paula was in the kitchen, emptying the dishwasher. He could see her from the stairs, holding the dishes carefully. The dishes were still hot.

"Let it stand for a bit," he said. "I'll finish up."

"Do you even know where they go?" she asked, hands on her hips.

"No," he said. "But I do want to talk to you."

"You're like a broken record," she accused.

"You kissed me back!" he said. "That's what we haven't talked about. You kissed me back."

"Because kissing is nice," she said. "But that doesn't mean it changes anything."

"Sure it does," he said.

"No," she said, waggling her finger. "You don't want to marry me, Simon. I'm not even sure you like me. I think you just want to get laid."

"I don't need you to get laid, Paula," he said. "Did ever occur to you that I don't want you just because it's convenient? That I want you because you're you?"

"It honestly never has," she said.

"I don't understand why you can't just take me at face value." She crossed her arms. "Don't you think there is honor in adapting to what life throws at you?"

"I don't want to be an adaptation," she said.

"That isn't what I meant," he said. "Maybe it isn't about adaptation, maybe what we have is just..."

"Just what?"

"Fate," he said, simply. "Maybe we didn't do anything wrong, maybe this is exactly what was supposed to happen."

She laughed, pointing at him.

"I almost bought that," she said through her giggles. "You almost had me."

"Fine," he said, turning around and walking away.

"Wait, wait," she said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh at you." He faced her again. "Simon, I love that little boy up there more than anything I've ever loved before. What if... what if it doesn't work and we can't stand each other again? How will we be a family?"

He didn't know how to answer her.

oooo

"Kathryn is sick," Paula said, trying to hook her earring into her ear while holding Andy on her hip. He kept trying to grab it.

"We have to be at the studio in half an hour," Simon said. "What the hell are we going to do?"

"I called Wendy, she'll meet us there," Paula said.

"You want to bring Andrew to the studio?" Simon asked, surprised.

"I don't see that we have much of a choice," she said, setting Andy down to put on the other earring. He was crawling now and took off for the door. Simon stood in front of his escape. There was a gate up in front of the stairs, but he didn't like to take chances.

"We'll have to take your car," Simon said.

"I know."

"I'm driving," he said. She stepped into her high heels.

"You're the boss," she said. "Your son is heading for the hills, by the way."

"Andrew," Simon said, poking his head down the hall. "Come back here." Andy was 8 months now, and growing so quickly.

"Get him in the car, I'll be down in a minute," Paula said.

At the studio, Paula stayed in her dressing room with the baby. People came in and out to see him, coo at him, and ask to hold him. Showtime was getting closer and Wendy still wasn't there. Finally Paula called the cell phone she'd gotten her sister for Christmas but of course Wendy never turned it on and so it went straight to the voicemail.

"Where are you?" Paula said. "We're live in fifteen minutes and if you're not here in fourteen minutes I'm pretty screwed."

Three minutes to air, Nigel came into her room. Andy was playing in the playpen but there was no one Paula was willing to leave him with.

"She'll be here," Paula said. "I know her, she'll be here."

"But we need you in your seat now," Nigel said.

"I'm sorry," Paula said. "Start without me. Just tell Brian to stay away from the table. Keep it on Ryan for as long as you can."

"The first thing he does is introduce you!" Nigel said.

"I'll get out there as soon as I can, I promise," she said.

"Paula..."

"This is my kid, this is Simon's kid, and he comes first." She crossed her arms, asking him to mount an argument against her.

"Fine," he said. "But if your ass isn't in the chair by the end of the first number, we're going to have words." He stormed out. She looked at the baby in the pen who was drooling all over his teething ring.

"Your aunt is never late," she said. "Where the hell is she?"

Wendy came tearing down the hall five minutes into broadcast.

"Traffic," she said, panting. "Go, yell at me later. Go!"

Paula could run in heels with the best of them. She blew a kiss to the baby and headed for the table. She ducked under two cameras and held her finger to her lips to the crowd as she sneaked up to the judges' table. The crowd wouldn't be heard over the final note of Ruben singing 'Ain't Too Proud to Beg' and she slipped into her seat. Ryan had already glossed over absence earlier saying there was a family matter and she'd appear in a few moments. As the song ended and Ryan appeared on the stage, though, he looked right at her.

"Paula Abdul, ladies and gentlemen," he said with a grin. She waved and the crowd cheered. "Everything all good?"

"Yep," she said. "Sorry, everyone."

"What happened?" Ryan pressed. She glared at him. Beside her, Simon leaned closer to his microphone.

"Ryan," he said warningly.

"My babysitter was late," she said, simply. "But I heard Ruben!" She stood and clapped and the show moved on.

After the show, Simon came in to check on Andy.

"You going out tonight?" Paula asked, trying to sound only mildly interested. Simon had been dating a woman for a couple weeks - she was nice, Paula had met her. She was a producer and he'd only her for a short time. Paula had told him she was glad for him. Simon and the lady, Caroline, had gone on four dates. Simon wasn't saying much about her and Caroline hadn't met Andy yet, which was telling. Paula had her suspicions about everything and she suspected that Simon was dating Caroline simply to gauge Paula's reaction, but of course, she couldn't be sure.

"Maybe," he said. Simon never seemed overly excited about his dates, always dragging his feet and coming in before midnight - alone. "You missing the start of the show was a hit, you know."

"What?" she asked. She was changing Andy who hated it and was fussing up a storm. She didn't want to ride home smelling him, though.

"Fuller said something about promoting the family vibe or some shit, I don't know," Simon said. "American values."

"We're not exactly the picture perfect American family," she said. She handed him the wrapped up diaper and he tossed it in the bin.

"Maybe we're close enough," he said. "Anyway, I think I'll come home with you tonight."

"Are you sure?"

"We came in one car," he said. She preferred when Simon came home with them, simply because it was easier for her to navigate through the press. Usually they didn't have Andy, but today they did. Paula held him close and Simon draped a blue blanket over him so the photographers couldn't get any shots and so the lights and crush of people didn't frighten him. Simon wore the green diaper bag with dancing monkeys on it over his shoulder and held out his hand, clearing a path like a linebacker.

The old Paula would have stopped and chatted the reporters up or at least offered them one quote or answered one question, but Paula the mother ignored everything, focused only on the goal of getting to the car. Once they got through a certain section, the press couldn't follow. Paula left Andy covered, wary of long lenses. At the car, Simon buckled Andy in while Paula sat in the passenger seat. Simon handed her the keys when she asked for them so she could turn on the radio and hum along.

"You ever thinking about singing again?" Simon asked, climbing behind the wheel and starting the engine. There was a moment when the engine was starting that it was just Paula singing along to nothing before the radio came back on.

"No," she said.

"You were massively popular," Simon said. "You don't miss that?"

"Of course I do," she said, as they pulled into the traffic. The moving car had already put the baby to sleep. "I miss singing and dancing for an audience, I miss being on stage, but you know how bad my back is... I can't live that life. And besides, what am I supposed to do, bring a toddler on a tour bus?"

"I hadn't thought of that," Simon said.

"I don't want to drag him all over the world his whole life. He needs a permanent home."

"You mean two permanent homes," Simon said.

"What?"

"He's half British."

"He was born here," she said.

"Duel citizenship," Simon argued. "And when we go to London..."

"When we what?" she squeaked.

"Paula you know I have to spend at least a few months in London every year," he said. "You think I'm just going to leave him for 10 weeks?"

"Well..."

"What do you have holding you here outside of Idol that can't be rearranged or dealt with overseas?" he asked.

"You want Andy and me to go with you to London?" she asked.

"Well, are you going to let me take him while you stay here?" he asked. She frowned but didn't even bother to answer such a preposterous question. "That's what I thought."

"Simon this is... a lot to take in," she said. "What does Caroline think about you leaving for so long?"

"Who?" he asked. "Oh, oh, I'm not sure."

"Have you asked her?" Paula pressed.

"I don't... I mean, she's just some... it's not serious."

"Ah," Paula said softly.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," she said. "It was a good show tonight."

"That doesn't mean we have to resort to shop talk," he scolded. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm going to sit quietly then, since nothing seems to make you happy," she said.

"That makes me very happy," he snapped.

"Asshole," she muttered.


	7. Chapter 7

_"I did not know how I could reach him, where I could overtake him and go on hand in hand with him once more. It is such a secret place, the land of tears."_  
\- Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

*

Paula got up in the middle of the night, which was tragic since it meant she would look tired for the results show. But she couldn't sleep - things felt wrong somehow. Everything was moving too fast - Andy crawling, going to London, Caroline, the uncomfortable ride home. Nights made her feel lonely, too. Andy could sleep through the night in his own crib and while sometimes it was tempting to keep him in her bed, she knew in the long run he needed to be able to sleep on his own.

She knew what was stressing her out at the moment - the idea of going to London. She hadn't been for a number of years and was worried more about being away from L.A. for so long; the house, her family and what to do with the dogs? Her dogs had become used to a life of leisure but ever since the baby had come, they spent more time in the garage and outside than in the house these days. Maybe her dad would take the dogs while she was gone. Tinkerbell had almost snapped at Andy the other day.

When Simon came down, stumbling blindly toward the coffee she'd just put on, he sat down next to her. She was on the computer, her chin resting in her hand.

"What are you doing?" he asked, stirring sweetener into his mug.

"Filling out the paper work to get Andrew a passport," she said.

"We should get him a UK passport," Simon said.

"Well, we can," Paula said. "Once you file the paperwork for his dual citizenship and then the passport paperwork but we can't do it before we go to London."

"I think you have the wrong attitude about London," Simon said. She gave him a look that let him know he was skating on thin ice. "No, I just mean that it will be a nice change. There won't be so many photographers - you'll be able to go out and take Andy with you. My mum is there, my brother - Andy'll get to meet his cousins and have someone to play with." He was making the argument that London could be peaceful and offer a certain amount of anonymity. Paula printed out the form so Simon could sign it.

"You need a shave," she said, holding his chin between her thumb and index finger.

She would think about his words and try to see it from his perspective, but no matter what, they were going.

oooo

The night before they left, Paula stayed up packing. Another Idol winner was fresh in their wake and the show was as popular as anyone could hope for. She had spent the last couple weeks being thorough in her preparation for traveling abroad. Andy already had a Doctor over there, she'd seen pictures of Simon's London home - she knew all the neighbors' names and had spoken to his family members on the phone. Simon had assured her she wouldn't need a nanny over there, but she'd spoken to a service on the phone about interviews, should she need them.

Kathryn had cried at the news that she wouldn't be seeing Andy for two months. Maybe the fault had been in Simon sharing the news in his brusque way instead of Paula but Simon had certainly never seen the woman emote on such a level before. He offered her the handkerchief from his pocket, a neat white square, but she merely turned away from him, her shoulders trembling slightly.

"Now look," Simon said. "We'll be back before too long and it is my hope, ours - Paula too - that you will continue to help us with Andrew."

"I know," Kathryn said, managing to find a bit more composure. "It's just they grow so fast at this age."

It was true. Andy was already bellowing sounds that sounded almost like words. Soon he would start speaking - he would be one soon.

Now, Paula was folding up the majority of Andy's things and putting them on top of her own clothes. Simon was traveling fairly light - he had a lot of things already there and didn't feel the need to haul things back and forth unnecessarily.

"Would you like me to load the car?" Simon asked. Paula looked up, pushing her bangs away from her forehead.

"You can take those three," she said.

"Don't you think you ought to get some sleep?" he said, picking up the heaviest and deciding to make three trips.

"I can sleep on the plane," she said.

And on the plane, she did sleep. They were in first class, but it was still a transatlantic flight with a baby. Andy had slept fine all night and was wide awake, regardless of his exhausted and bedraggled parents. Paula had set Andy on Simon's lap and then promptly fell asleep against his shoulder as soon as the plane leveled out and Andy stopped howling quite so loudly. The women seated around them sent Simon sympathetic glances and then men sent over ominous glares. If Simon could shut Andy up, he would. But as the hours dragged on, the child grew more and more restless until Simon had nudge Paula against the window instead of him and pick Andy up.

As a general rule, Simon didn't leave the first class seating area when he flew anywhere, but with a kid, everything seemed to change. He walked Andy up and down the aisle, bouncing him and shushing him. Andy liked the movement, the change of scenery. Most people were asleep or engrossed in books or crossword puzzles, but he saw immediately that there were plenty of people who recognized him. He saw a teenage girl's eyes get so wide they looked as if they might float up and out of her head like small balloons. She leaned in to her mother and when Simon passed her row, he distinctly heard the girl whisper Paula's name.

It was amazing the level of fan dedication that Paula had. During the first season of the show, when people came in and saw her, they were ecstatic. Even though she hadn't produced anything in six years, anything popular in longer, people went crazy for her. And that had included himself.

He had hated her, of course, her cloying kindness and elaborate hair and make-up, her little outfits, and wide, white smile. He couldn't stand her from moment one and despite that, he'd _wanted_ her. Rather badly, actually. He'd tried to ignore it, the punch in the gut he'd felt when he saw her, and then when it didn't go away, he'd started to get meaner and meaner toward her in an effort to keep her at bay.

He'd been particularly cruel to her the day she'd shown up at his house to confront him. She had come to try to work things out, he was certain of that, but he'd just needled her and goaded her until her little hand reached out to slap him across the face. But she was not the first woman to try to slap Simon Cowell, so he easily caught her wrist. Instead of letting her arm go and stepping back, he'd given in and kissed her.

And strangely enough, she'd kissed him back. He'd expected her to run but instead she'd reached for his belt buckle and he'd ripped the blouse right off of her, buttons scattering everywhere. They hadn't even made it upstairs - had fallen asleep right on the couch. When he'd woken up, she was gone and the rest, as they say, was history.

"You're the fellow from that show."

Simon looked down to see an elderly woman looking up at him over the rims of her red reading spectacles.

"Indeed," he said, "I'm just trying to calm the boy." It was a polite plea to be left alone.

"You know," she said, ignoring his hint. "You ought to marry that girl."

Simon's eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

"The mother, the lady from the show who sang that song with the cat that my granddaughter likes."

"Yes, I know to whom you're referring," Simon said.

"No one cares in this day and age that you're doing it all backwards," she said. "Baby and then marriage, that's fine, I think."

"Is it." His tone was rather dry. Andy squirmed - they'd been stationary for too long.

"Well?" she asked. "Why haven't you?"

"Ma'am," Simon sighed. "I assure you, I'm trying."

"Good!" she declared. "Oh look, Mr. Cowell. They're staring to serve lunch."

"So they are," he said looking at Andy. "Come on, buddy. Let's go see if your mum is awake."

Paula was just sitting up, looking around when he sat down again. Simon loved her most like this, sleepy and docile and reaching warmly for the child they had created together.

"Is he hungry?" she asked.

"He's fussy," Simon said. "Can you work your mojo and make him be good?"

"He's a baby," she said. "And it's not mojo, it's motherhood."

But of course, with a bottle, a snack, and his mother, Andy finally settled down enough to doze while they ate.

Paula wondered, briefly, if she was going to be this tired for the rest of her life.

oooo

"It's best if you try to stay awake," Simon said. "Don't cling to your timezone."

Intellectually, she knew this to be true but it was still like trying to spend the day with her shoes on the wrong feet. Possible, but improbable. Paula wandered the home, touching things lightly. This was an unfamiliar side of Simon, all these warm browns and greens. Framed photographs of perfect strangers and dark cabinets and doors that needed a thick brass key to be unlocked. Simon himself seemed different as well, more comfortable to be on his own soil. He had assured her that she ought to treat the house as if it were her own, but she didn't even do that in Los Angeles. Andrew seemed displaced and out of sorts in his mother's arms but perfectly content in Simon's as if he absorbed the mood of whomever he was with.

"I slept on the plane," she reminded him. "You didn't."

"I'm naturally set to this timezone," he said and she honestly couldn't tell if he was joking.

In an effort to feel more human, Paula took a shower in the master bedroom. Her room had its own bathroom but the tub was quaint, curved at the top and propped up by four little metal feet. Simon's bathroom, of course, had been remodeled and though no longer went with the rest of the house was much more conducive to luxury. When she emerged, her hair brushed back from her forehead, she found her son seated squarely in the lap of his grandmother.

"Mrs. Cowell," Paula said. "Hello."

"She didn't waste any time," Simon said, but she could tell he wasn't at all upset.

"Julie," Simon's mother corrected her, as she had to do often. After all, Julie Cowell was not Paula's family, not legally anyhow, despite the strong tie that might suggest otherwise. "And I'd get used to seeing me often. I don't have enough time with my grandson."

As Paula sat with Simon and his mother, she couldn't seem to shake the unsettled feeling she'd been carrying around with her since Simon had told her about London. She felt helpless, like she was here simply to keep Andy happy but served no greater purpose. Simon had work, an office to go to and goals that had to be accomplished with looming and swift deadlines but Paula had nothing. Sure, she would go on a talk show or two to promote American Idol, but it was still the off season and she wasn't sure why they aired the show in places that weren't America anyhow.

"Go see a play," her sister had told her. "Go shopping. Get a stroller and push Andy around a park. Read a book. Write a book. Not having a thousand obligations is not the burden you're making it out to be."

Maybe Wendy was right, but it was all easier said that done.

And the first day in the house alone proved that to her. Simon was gone before it was time to fix breakfast and probably wouldn't be home until after sundown. Andy was fussy and overtired, didn't like the food or his outfit, didn't want his toys and wouldn't let her set him down without bursting in to fresh, hot tears.

By the third day, Paula felt like she might snap. She tried to explain the feeling to Simon, but he just looked at her with a blank expression.

"So drop him with my mum," he said.

"That isn't a solution," she said. "It's a band-aid over a gaping wound." He wrinkled his nose.

"Well, what is it you'd like me to do?" he asked. "It's not been a week."

"I know," she said. "I don't know what I want you to do. I just... I need to figure out what to do with my time."

Maybe she was a little frightened to go out into the city with her child. Despite having a driver and a hundred places to visit, she was still a famous face and didn't want to expose Andy to any unnecessary danger. On the other hand, she couldn't hide him away forever.

On Friday, Simon came home early.

"Put on something nice," he ordered. "My mum is on her way. We're going to dinner."

"Simon..."

"Look, I can't stand you like this. I'm taking you out of this house whether you go willingly or if I have to drag you by your ears, so put on a damn dress right bloody now."

She stared at him, wide eyed.

"Okay," she said.

They went to a fancy restaurant where people took their pictures. She recognized the rapid fire flashing of bulbs as she stepped out of the car, the people calling her name. Simon was more patient on his own turf and even posed for a few moments with her, his arm draped over her shoulders. Afterward, they saw _The Two Gentlemen of Verona_ on stage. Shakespeare had never been of particular interest to her, but the play was done well enough and it was worth it to be around people her own age - people at all. When it was time to go home, she was almost sad. At least the morning brought the start of the weekend and Simon would be around. They were supposed to go to his brother's house, let Andy meet his cousins, and that would fill the day. Paula wasn't exactly excited at the prospect - she felt as if she didn't belong. Not a girlfriend, not a wife.

Simon held open the door for her. The living room was lit by soft lamps and Simon took her coat and hung it on the rack by the door while she climbed the stairs to look in on Andy in his little room.

Simon was downstairs pouring himself a drink when Paula came down the stairs holding her heels in one hand.

"What's wrong?" he asked, setting the glass down a little too hard in his immediate worry. Paula winced - the glass was too nice and nothing would mend cracks and fissures.

"Andy is fine, it's just that your mother is asleep in my bed."

"Ah," he said. "She probably got tired."

"Why didn't she sleep in your bed?" Paula demanded.

He shrugged. "Habit?"

"Well, all of my clothes are in there and I don't want to wake her. Can I borrow some clothes? I'll sleep on the couch."

"You will not sleep on the couch," he said. "That bed is enormous. Just sleep with me."

"You're supposed to offer to sleep on the couch!"

"I don't want to, hurts my back," Simon said. Paula looked bewildered and spent.

"Fine," she said.

"What? No argument?" he asked, shocked.

"The bed _is_ huge," she conceded. "And you've seen me push a human out of my hoohah. We can share a bed one night and live."

As she climbed the stairs, he allowed a small smile to himself. Progress was progress.

oooo

Paula had battled insomnia since she was a teenager, but oddly enough, in Simon's bed with him snoring next to her, she slept like the dead. Simon did as he promised and behaved, merely climbing into bed and extinguishing the lamp and saying little more than goodnight. She woke up first in the morning. Her body woke her out of habit now. In a few minutes, Andy would wake up, alert in his crib and hungry. He could pull himself up by holding onto the bars.

Simon's face was relaxed in sleep, and handsome. Was he really such a bad man? She touched the hair at his forehead, pushing it back and revealing his face. He opened his eyes, confused for only a moment before capturing her wrist and tugging on it. She scooted closer to him, let him put his arms around her while their bodies were flush against each other. He closed his eyes again, drifted back under. She could hear his heart, could feel it thumping under her ear. She could feel her own, too, beating faster.

When she heard the baby, he held her tight.

"Let him cry," Simon muttered.

"I can't," she said.

"Bring him here, then," Simon said. She agreed to this, creeping down the hall in one of Simon's t-shirts, long enough to cover the shorts she wore with it. Andy lifted his arms at the sight of her and she hefted him out of the crib.

"When are you going to learn to sleep in?" she asked him. She changed him and then carried him back to Simon's room. With any luck he would go back to sleep after she nursed him and indeed, that's what he did, nestled between his parents. When she looked over at Simon, he was awake again, staring at her.

"Kiss me," he said, a pleading note in his voice.

"Andy," she said.

"Is asleep," he said. "Kiss me, Paula, right now."

It was awkward, leaning over the top of their son, but she did as he asked, kissing him softly in the early morning light.

oooo

Paula wasn't sure who had tipped off the photographers that they would be back in Los Angeles today, but the place was swamped. Simon held Andy but had to pass him over so he could wrangle the luggage onto a cart. Andy didn't want the blanket over him and didn't want to be held. The photographers would get plenty of shots of him to be sure.

"Stop it," Paula told him. "Stay still." But he squirmed and fussed. She wasn't going to let him down to crawl on the airport floor surrounded by people no matter how hard he struggled. Finally, the stroller came out and she could tuck him into it and pull the hood up. Simon let the diver load the luggage into the car he'd arranged for them while Paula figured out how to strap the car seat into the unfamiliar vehicle. Finally, they were all settled in the back with the baby between them on the wide seat.

"Home, Jeeves," Simon said, winking at Paula. She rolled her eyes.

"Very good, sir," said the driver, playing along even though he was Hispanic and this wasn't London anymore. Paula looked out the tinted window at the passing palm trees and the wide blue sky. She was happy to be home. Summer just wasn't summer anywhere else.

Simon nodded off at the same time Andy did. It was weird how the car both put them right to sleep. It wasn't a long drive - forty minutes due to traffic and when they pulled into the driveway, Simon got out groggy and Paula was careful to bring Andy in the house seat and all so as not to wake him. He could sleep in his seat for as long as he wanted as far as she was concerned. The drive made her hot and sticky and they silently agreed to just leave the bags piled in the foyer. Paula turned on the air conditioning and set about pulling the heavy cloth that draped over the furniture. They hadn't really been gone long, but the house got so much light that if they weren't using the furniture, they may as well cover it to save it from bleaching.

Simon was going through the huge stack of mail they'd neglected. He handed her a big envelope and she knew exactly what it contained. Her house had sold while they were gone and it was the final documents to sign.

"You know," Simon said, watching her tear the flap open and glance through the paperwork. "The lease is up at the end of the year here."

"Hmm," she said. She wasn't really listening to him.

"I think we should buy a house," he said.

This got her attention. She looked up at him, searching his face carefully to see if he was serious or if he was pulling her leg, which he liked to do.

"Together?" she asked.

"This is a party house," he said. "I mean, we don't treat it like that but it's open and full of windows and balconies and ledges... it's not meant for children."

"No," she agreed. There were gates all over the place to keep Andy away from dangerous areas.

"We could get a family house," he said.

"We could," she said carefully. She didn't want to seem too eager until she gave this some thought.

"We could have another baby," he said, looking back at the mail in his hands and continuing to flip through it as if he were remarking on the weather.

"Shut up," she said, snorting slightly.

"I'm serious," he said.

"No you aren't," she said, but she could see it on his face. "No. You aren't." Now she was trying to convince him.

"Why not?""

"Because I'm too old!" she said. "Because I'm still nursing the first one!"

"A little girl," he said. "I bet she'd look like you."

Paula rubbed her forehead.

"Is this about the kissing?" she asked. It wasn't exactly regular, their kissing, but it was getting to be a bit of a habit and each time she gave in, things moved a little bit farther along.

"No," he said. "Yes. No, it's about family, our family. I didn't want one but that's because I didn't really understand what it was all about."

"And you do now," she said.

"I know enough to appreciate what I've got and to want more," he said.

It was almost sweet but she was too scared to continue the conversation.

"I'm going upstairs to call the real estate agent," she said, instead. "Can you keep an eye on him?"

"Sure," Simon said. He let her go.

That night, they were all tired but had struggled to fight the jet lag. It was just after 9:00 and time for bed. Simon came in to wish her goodnight and hesitated after her said it.

"I wish you would trust me," he said, finally. It stung and with that sting she lashed out.

"Wanting to have sex with me is not a good enough reason to have another baby," she said. She thought he might respond but instead he inhaled sharply and disappeared down the hall.

She had been flippant and wished she could take the words back somehow.

oooo

She left a folder on his desk. She'd asked her real estate agent to bring over some listings of houses when she'd come to pick up the final papers and now she left them for Simon as a peace offering.

"I was thinking I'd just re-up the lease," he said, tossing the folder back to her a little later.

"Why?"

"Moving is a pain," he said. "Besides you and I probably shouldn't commit to something we can't finish."

Maybe she had deserved that. But she knew Simon well enough to leave him alone for a while. Simon was a man of big gestures, of making a statement. She had to figure out some way to show him that she was sorry and that she appreciated everything he did for them. She even appreciated his advances - they were well-intended and though she didn't want to admit it, he was beginning to wear her down. Yes, it would be easier to simply fall into his arms and allow him to take care of her _every_ need, but if it didn't work? She just couldn't get past that hurdle.

That night, after everyone was already tucked in and the house had been quiet for a while, she realized that she was never going to get any sleep without talking to Simon. So she lifted the duvet away and slipped into her robe, tying the sash loosely around her waist. Simon's door was cracked as hers usually was - in case the baby cried in the night. She knocked lightly but she could see clearly he'd already slipped under completely. She hated to wake him, but was determined. She sat on the edge of his bed and put her hand on his side where his waist dipped in and his paunch curved out. She didn't say anything, just sat there touching him thinking about how to start. Eventually, his instincts kicked in and he woke up, aware somehow that she was with him.

"What's the matter?" he said. All of her planning flew out the window because she started to cry.

"I'm sorry," she sniffed and then hid her face in his blankets, her nose pressed into his side.

"Hey now," he said, rubbing her back lightly. "What's this?"

"I was so mean earlier," she said. "I'm terrible to you."

"Calm down," he said. "I'm not mad."

"Yes you are," she sobbed.

"No, I'm not."

"I hurt your feelings," she said. She had, so he just continued to rub her back but his silence only made her more miserable.

"Paula," he said, finally. "This is my fault. You've made yourself perfectly clear."

But she hadn't, not really, which was why he kept bringing up the subject. She'd said no with her words, but she gave him more little by little. He cupped her face in his hands and wiped under her eyes with the pads of this thumbs. She leaned in a little - it was instinct, but he took the invitation to kiss her. He didn't care that she was still crying, that her face was puffy and nose runny. She kissed him back. It felt good to kiss him and then be wrapped up in his arms, her cheek on his shoulder.

"Every relationship runs the risk of ending badly," he said. "And you're under this bizarre impression that we're not currently in a relationship and that if we were to start sleeping together, that something would implode. But the truth of the matter is, this is the most important relationship I've ever been in and we're already in it deep."

She hadn't really thought of their arrangement as a relationship but he was right, in a way.

"But it is going to end badly if it stays like this," he continued. "We're human Paula, and we can't live together and separate at the same time. It doesn't work that way and one of us is going to get hurt. Probably both of us. So here's our options. You ready?"

She nodded.

"We can do what I've been suggesting and move forward. We can stay how we have been and wait for the messy but inevitable decline which, from your tears, I can safely say has already begun, or we can cut our losses right now and work out a custody agreement that allows us to go our separate ways." He said this all very simply as if it were as easy as choosing a door and turning the knob.

"Our separate ways?" she said, incredulously. "That's what I've been trying so hard to avoid."

"All right, scratch the last one then. See? Already we're making progress."

"This isn't a joke," she said. He sobered a bit.

"I know," he said.

"What if it doesn't work?" she whispered, afraid. It was her fall back argument but it was starting to wear thin.

"It already does work," he pointed out. "Don't you see?"

He pulled back the covers and she got into the bed.

"Maybe you're right," she said, feeling totally exhausted now that her head was on the pillow. A sign that she'd worked through what ever had been keeping her awake.

"Fucking finally," he muttered, pulling the blankets back over his head.


	8. Chapter 8

_"You can only come to the morning through the shadows."_  
\- J.R.R. Tolkien

*

Season Three started with them in a new home with a 18-month-old and sharing a bedroom. Not bad for a few months work, Paula thought. They hadn't mentioned it to anyone, but they were trying. Trying, she thought, was not exactly the right term. They just weren't always careful - in fact, one might say that Paula and Simon had never used protection of any kind at all.

But the miraculous connection that had produced Andrew Adam Abdul (Or, as Uncle Randy called him, Triple A), was not working quite as well this time around. The first time she'd gotten her period she'd sat on the toilet for ten minutes crying. She was older now, more tired, her time spread incredibly thin. Why did she think it would just happen again?

"Babe?" Simon was home, now, holding a paper bag. She knew what was inside of it; she'd asked for them a couple hours ago. She also knew that Simon himself didn't drive down to the Rite-Aid to buy it, that some poor assistant did but still, she reached out her hand for it when she met him in the living room. There were five tests inside. He kissed her cheek and then looked at her. She wouldn't meet his eyes. "What's wrong?"

A couple hours ago she had needed the tests, but now she didn't. She handed the bag back to him and went into the kitchen to start dinner.

"Great," he muttered to himself, before following her. She was leaning against the counter, her arms crossed, looking into the open refrigerator across from her. "We'll try again."

"I know," she said. He did this every month. He did this all through the auditions, he'd done it once already since they had been home. They were in the lag between auditions and Hollywood week. Next week, Simon was going to England for ten days. He was still trying to convince her to go but she didn't want to drag Andy on another plane so soon after auditions. She wanted to spend time in their new home, to settle and nest. Ten days wasn't very long, compared to their last London trip.

"There's no rush," he said.

She said nothing. She always disagreed with this point. Neither of them were getting any younger.

"And you hated being pregnant on film."

"Stop it," she said. "I can't take your pep talks anymore."

"I'm just saying..."

"I know what you're saying," she said. "But there _is_ a rush, we _have_ been trying, and I'm _always_ on film, so just stop trying to make me feel better."

He looked around.

"Where's Andy?"

"Play group," she said. She glanced at the clock. "Actually, will you go get him?"

"Where is it?"

"Kathryn's," Paula said. "She gave me this long lecture about isolating him and how he was going to grow up to be weird and unsocial because he didn't ever play with babies his own age, so she started having her daughter's play group at her house so Andy could go. Kathryn's granddaughter is three months older than Andy and there's like four other babies..."

"I really just wanted the address," Simon said, cutting her off. She always gave him way too much back story.

"It's in the GPS," Paula said. He took her keys off the hook and walked out.

Kathryn's house wasn't that far, but it was in a much more modest neighborhood. Simon had never been there. Really, he didn't think much about their nanny at all. He liked the woman well enough, but they'd spent time together only in regards to Andy. He pulled into the drive and checked the address against what Paula had in her GPS. It was the right place. He knocked on the door in the waning light and waited for an answer. The woman who answered the door looked like Kathryn enough that he had to consider for a moment what to say.

"Come on in," the woman said. "I'm Annie, Kathryn's daughter."

"Hello," Simon said.

"You must be Andy's dad," she said with a little smile. It was a joke, of course. She knew that Simon was Andy's dad because the world knew.

"I am," he said. They moved down a hallway to where the kids were playing and the parents were sitting around talking and drinking coffee. Simon was the only man there not in diapers.

"Sarah is mine," she said, pointing a little girl who was sitting nearest his son. They appeared to be friends. "That's Hannah, Emma, Brooklyn, and Cody."

At the sight of his father, Andy stood and made his wobbly way toward the door. Simon met him half way and hefted him into his arms. He tried to smooth Andy's hair but it was just as unruly as Simon's. It stuck up in tufts all over.

"He really is the spitting image of you," one of the mothers said.

"That's what they tell me," Simon said. "Pleasure meeting you all."

"Mr. Cowell, stay and have a cup," Kathryn said.

"Oh," Simon said.

"You're a bit early," she said. "I'll be right back." Simon wondered if Paula had sent him over early so he'd be forced to endure these social rituals. He sighed and put Andy down again. He wobbled back over to the babies and Simon sat down slowly in an armchair, knowing everyone was watching him.

"So," he said. "How is everyone this evening?"

The women gave him a small eruption of nervous laughter and a chorus of generic answers. Kathryn came back in with his tea and he took it.

"Mr. Cowell-"

"Simon," he said.

"All right. Simon is on that TV show," Kathryn said. She said it unnecessarily, but she was just trying to make conversation.

"I'm a big fan," one of them women said.

"Thanks," he said. "Thank you. I take it you've all met Andy's mum?"

They all nodded.

"We love her, she's so sweet," one of the mothers said. "You never know in this city how... people are going to be, but you can just tell she loves Andy so much."

"You think celebrity parents don't love their children?" he asked.

"No!" she said. "That isn't what I... I didn't mean to imply, of course..."

"It's all right," he said. "Paula is... the heart of any situation, I've found."

"Aww," the mothers all said. Even Kathryn looked pleased. The sound of blocks falling and Sarah beginning to wail distracted all of them and Simon used the opportunity to abandon his teacup and pick Andy up.

"Bye," he said, and hurried out of the house. He buckled Andy into his seat. "That," he told his son, "was harrowing."

"Dada," Andy said.

"Exactly," Simon said. "No place for Daddy."

At home, Paula was almost done with dinner, so Simon and Andy went upstairs for Andy's bath and to play until she called for them. In bed that night, she looked at him over the top of her novel.

"How was play group?"

"You're an evil woman," he said. She tilted her head with a sly smirk.

"Maybe," she conceded.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he said. "You're right. Pep talks are stupid."

"No," she sighed, closing the book over her thumb. "You were just trying to help."

"I was trying to make you feel better," he corrected. "And was doing so with selfish motives. I like it better when you're happy."

She looked at him for a long while, almost too long. Finally, she pulled her thumb out of the book.

"I'm happy, Simon," she said. "I thought you knew that."

"I know," he said. What he meant was, I know _now_.

oooo

On the day they met Carrie Underwood, Paula just couldn't keep anything down. She thought it was the south, the humidity of Missouri in the summer - the sweating, the greasy food. Andy was old enough to stay with Paula's mother and hadn't come on this leg of the trip. Paula was grateful she didn't have to care for him in her state.

They'd been filming for less than an hour when out of nowhere, she leaned over and threw up between her and Simon's chairs. Everyone had jumped back and gasped.

"Dude," Randy said. "He wasn't THAT bad!"

"Sorry," she managed. The man auditioned was quickly escorted out and the filming halted. Someone handed her a wad of paper towels to drop on the mess. Simon touched the back of her neck with her hand - she was sweaty. But the wave of nausea had come as quickly as it had came and she felt okay.

"Are you sure?" Simon asked.

"Can we get, like, a bucket or something?" Randy called out to no one in particular. He didn't seem too phased - he was a father, but there were a few people who looked a little green around the gills.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Paula said. "I'm so sorry. I ate something... bad, but I'm okay."

"Are you certain?" Simon asked.

"Yeah," she said. She was mostly embarrassed. She looked down at the call sheet. "Carrie Underwood," she said. "She's next."

Simon had a habit of not looking at singers he really liked, so it was telling that Simon turned his face away from Carrie and toward Paula as the girl sang. She was good, very good. When Carrie had left, golden ticket in hand, Simon leaned over to Paula.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I swear to God, Simon, stop asking me that."

"You should have been falling all over yourself for a singer of that caliber but you just sat there," he said.

"I said yes," she pointed out.

"Yes but..."

"You know that we're miked, right?" Paula said. "That everyone can hear us?"

"Fine," Simon said, leaning back. "Fine."

In the hotel room that night, Simon still hovered. He'd canceled their dinner plans and ordered room service instead. It didn't matter that she felt perfectly fine, nothing she said convinced him.

"Has it occurred to you that I may have knocked you up a second time?" Simon had asked, but she brushed that idea off. They'd given up on the idea of a sibling for Andy after months and months of trying.

"I don't even want to go down that road again," Paula had told him firmly. He'd dropped it. But the next morning, as they were packing up, she felt sick again. Not as bad, but bad enough to sit down and press a cold water bottle to the back of her neck.

"It's psychological," she said. "You mentioned it and now..."

"We still have any tests at home?" Simon asked. She shrugged, even though she knew they did. "When you get home, you're taking one."

But of course the getting home took time, and then there was reuniting with Andy, and unpacking and before they knew it, they were in bed. Paula woke up in the middle of the night with a nagging feeling. She rolled over, tried to get comfortable, but the feeling persisted. Simon was snoring and she sighed, frustrated. She shrugged out from under his arm and got up to use the bathroom. In the bathroom, she sat down on the toilet and then she remembered.

The test! She could reach the cabinet from where she sat, and fumbled with the box there. The best time to take pregnancy tests was in the morning but Paula hoped the middle of the night worked as well. When she was done, she washed her hands and set the test on the back of the toilet. She wanted to get back in bed to wait, but couldn't risk waking Simon. He might want her to wake him, she isn't sure, but why risk it?

There was a light knock on the door.

"What are you doing in there?" he asked.

"It's coming out both ends, Simon," she said dryly.

"Liar," he said. They both knew if that were true, she would have used the downstairs guest bathroom so Simon couldn't hear, or smell, anything. She was shy.

"I'm peeing."

"For five minutes?" he asked. She said nothing. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," she said. She sat on the closed lid but Simon was like a hawk - he knew she was hiding something and he found it in seconds.

"What's it say?"

"It's still cooking," she said. "I just... want to be sure."

"I thought you were sure."

"Shut up," she said. "Be nice to me."

He rolled his eyes.

"My last pregnancy you weren't nice to me," she pointed out.

"You _lied_ to me. I said - don't make that face - I said, Paula am I the father and _you_ said 'you wish' and then guess what, Paula, guess what?"

"You were the father," she muttered.

"I was the father!" he said. "And you were a big fat liar!"

"Okay, maybe I was in the wrong there," she conceded. "But in my defense..."

"You don't have a defense."

"I was under a lot of stress!" she said. "And I loathed your very essence."

"Do you still loathe me?" he asked.

"Only like 80, 85 percent of the time," she promised. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her. She allowed this hug even though she knew he was just trying to see what the test said. Finally, she pushed him away and picked up the test.

"Well?" he demanded. She pulled it closer to her and then farther away.

"I honestly can't tell," she said. He grabbed it.

"That looks like a... well... that bit there could be a line."

"So what, I'm like a little bit pregnant?" she asked.

"Take another," he said.

"I don't have the pee for another."

"Are we the worst adults ever?" he asked.

"I'll make a doctor's appointment in the morning," she said. "Can we go back to bed?"

"God, yes," he said. But in the bed, he rolled over and faced her. "If you are pregnant, I can't knock you up again and if you aren't, we may as well try it, eh?"

She scoffed at his lame attempts but gave in to him anyway, of course.

oooo

The next test was inconclusive well.

"I think I'm peeing on it wrong," Paula said.

"Is there a wrong way to pee on something?" Simon asked.

"It just looks..." She squinted at it. "It looks the same as the last one. That could be another line, or it could just be nothing."

"When is your appointment?" he asked.

"This afternoon," she said. He chucked the test in the bin.

"We'll know then, I guess," he said.

"Oh God, Simon, what if I'm pregnant?" she asked. "What if I'm not?"

"You're going to be one of those two, so decide now which one you want," he offered. She scowled at him. "Sorry," he said. "If you are it's fabulous. Procreating with you was the best thing I ever did. Andy is a handsome devil and I love him. If you aren't, then we still have a family."

"What if I am and we have another boy," she said.

"Then we'll have you outnumbered so much that you'll never win any argument," he said. "It's win-win."

"You're awfully cheerful about all this," she muttered.

"I missed most of your last pregnancy," he said. "I'm quite excited to actually know about this one."

"Nothing is certain," she said. "Don't get your hopes up."

"Mommy!" Andy's voice carried down the hall. They had just gotten him a bed, a real bed that wasn't a crib but it hadn't yet clicked with him that he could get out of the bed and find his parents; that they didn't have to come retrieve him anymore. She left Simon in the bathroom to consider where his hopes truly lay.

Paula stood in the door of Andy's room.

"Come here," she said.

He lifted his arms.

"Do you have to potty?" she asked. He nodded. They were in the middle of potty training and he was pretty good about it at home, though when they went out it was a little more dicey. "Then come on, let's go." He stared at her, his little arms still in the air. "Andy, big boys get out of bed by themselves. Don't you want to be a big boy?"

"Big boy," he said, solemnly, nodding.

"Then come here," she said. He stared at her. She sighed, and went to pick him up. "We can try again tomorrow," she allowed.

Andy was used to being left with Kathryn and Kathryn had brought his best friend, Sarah, with her so when Paula left for her appointment it was without much notice. She was driving one of Simon's cars today - hers was in the shop. It was in the shop, again, actually. Simon had been pestering her to trade it in for something new but it seemed like one more hassle and how many cars did they need, really? Simon alone had four. If he really wanted to trade in her car, he could do it.

When she walked into the waiting room of the OBGYN office, Simon was sitting in one of the chairs reading an issue of _Good Housekeeping_ that was several months old.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, grinning.

"Wouldn't miss it," he promised her. She stared at him for a few moments, expecting him to disappear but he set the magazine down and waited patiently for her to snap out of it.

"Sometimes it's hard to remember why I hated you," she said. "I'm going to go check in."

In the room, she sat in the paper gown on the exam bed and Simon sat on the Doctor's stool, talking on his phone right under the sign that said not to talk on cell phones. Simon lived under the impression that normal rules didn't apply to the rich. He ran red lights, he was late everywhere, and he bought, literally, whatever he wanted. It was, at times, infuriating. Paula had written checks to pay for everything from traffic tickets to credit card bills all on Simon's behalf. And just when she though she couldn't take anymore of his wild, irresponsible ways, she would see him on the floor with Andy or he would do something like this - show up to her Doctor's appointment unprompted.

She hadn't fallen in love with Simon, not really. She had stopped hating him and then they'd become a family. And now they were this - two halves of a whole. People who had together created life. What was something as fleeting as love in comparison to that?

When the Doctor came in, Simon reluctantly moved and leaned against the far wall with his arms crossed and watched the exam.

"Well," said the Doctor, pulling off her latex gloves. "You aren't pregnant."

oooo

Simon dropped Andy off at Paula's sister and came home with a bottle of wine. Paula never drank - he'd never seen her drink a drop in all the time he'd known her but even if she didn't drink the wine tonight, he would need it. He found her where he'd left her, in the middle of their big bed. For as much as Paula loved color, she preferred her bed to be clean and white and he agreed. Their bed always had white sheets and a white duvet. Paula was the dark spot in the middle of this usually serene place. Her hair was in her face, plastered to her cheeks where tears had made them sticky. She'd stopped crying, but Simon could see this was not a good sign. She was still, staring at nothing through heavy lids.

Simon looked at the bottle of wine and glasses in his hands and realized right away that his plan wasn't going to work. Instead, he picked up the phone and dialed a number he'd memorized but never had to call before now.

"Lorraine?" he said. "It's Simon. I think you should come over."

The first thing Lorraine did was kick him out and close the door. There weren't very many people left who had the courage to tell Simon what to do but Simon could only pace the long hallway outside their door and wait. He didn't hear very much - once the sound of a piercing cry that made Simon grip the banister hard so he didn't kick the door down and once, he thought, the sound of the shower coming on. It was after eleven when Lorraine stuck her head out.

"Could you make us some sandwiches, dear? We're going to try to eat something."

But that was all she said.

It wasn't as if they'd lost a baby - the baby was never there. It was disappointing yes, but Simon didn't think it was life shattering and besides, Paula had been the one telling _him_ not to get his hopes up. The Doctor had even said they could try again and had offered plenty of fertility options. Paula had taken this news in stride, but when they'd come home, she'd sort of slowly fallen apart. She hadn't wanted to see Andy and when he'd insisted, she'd held him so close that he'd squirmed away from her and fled the room. Still, Paula was an emotional woman about lesser things.

Simon woke up on the sofa at dawn. Lorraine was beside him, shaking his shoulder. She looked exhausted, spent, rumpled.

"I'm going home," she said softly. "Go on upstairs."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Should you be driving?"

"I'm fine, son," she said. "Paula is fine too. I'll see you soon."

"Thanks, Lorraine," Simon said. "Thank you."

Upstairs, Simon opened the door to their bedroom softly. Paula was asleep in the middle of the bed. The bed itself was a wreck. The blankets and sheets were twisted and there were pillows on the floor. She looked down for the count though. She was snoring softly and she only ever snored when she was really tired. It was tempting to strip his clothes off and climb in next to her, but instead he closed the door and decided to go get Andy. He texted Wendy that he was headed over. When he got to her house, she was awake with Andy but they were both tired in their pajamas.

"Thank you," Simon said again, taking his son into his arms. Andy burrowed his face into Simon's shoulder.

"Everything okay?" Wendy asked. "You want to come in for coffee?"

"It's okay," he said. "I think we're just going to go home."

But instead of going straight home, Simon stopped to get bagels and, on a whim, flowers. He let Andy hold the flowers in his lap in the backseat.

"Those are for your mum," he explained. "From you and me."

"Why mommy need flowers?" Andy asked.

"Flowers show her that we love her," Simon explained. "They make her happy."

"Oh," Andy said, touching the pink petals of the roses softly. "We love mommy."

"Yes we do," Simon said. "We should tell her every day."

Paula woke up to the flowers and a bagel toasted on a tray. Paula loved bread but rarely ate it, so Simon knew this was a treat for her. She smiled at the boys. Andy climbed into the bed and Simon set the tray on her lap carefully.

"What is all this!" she said, kissing Andy.

"We love you!" Andy declared. Paula fought not to tear up for a moment.

"I love you too, buddy," she said. "Thank you." She looked at Simon. "Really."

"Any time, mummy," he said.

"Andy, did you have fun with Aunt Wendy?" Paula asked. Andy launched into a long rambling story about Wendy, dinosaurs, and the playground that his parents half paid attention to. Andy had a vivid imagination and his stories were always about 30 percent truth and the rest the fantastic imagination of a three-year-old.

"You okay?" Simon asked when there was a lull. Andy had been distracted by some toy and was playing on the foot of the bed. Simon and Paula sat side by side, leaning against the headboard, watching their child. He was better than TV.

"Yeah," she said. "My mom told me I got 24 hours to wallow so I took them. But my time is up so we have to move on."

"There's nothing to say that we don't keep trying," he pointed out.

"I don't want to obsess about it," she said. "I don't want to pump my body full of hormones either, trying to make it happen. If it happens, fine, but I don't want it to turn into some sort of giant battle against nature."

"Fair enough," he said. He kissed her temple. "Andy."

"What?" he said, looking up at his dad.

"Want to hang out with me today? Give your mom the day off?" he asked. Andy looked at his mom. Andy usually stayed with her or with Kathryn. Paula nodded encouragingly.

"I have to go see Uncle Ryan," Simon said. Andy lit up.

"Okay!" he said. They were still in the heart of auditioning. They were supposed to leave for New Orleans in the morning and Andy would be coming with them this time. Paula would use the day to pack them up, to wander around their house deciding which things she could and could not live without.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whelp, sorry i took a SEVEN YEAR break. this is the only unfinished story i have and it's bugged the crap out of me for seven years. i saw paula abdul last month in concert (she was hot, she did great, love her) and i was like, WHAT IF I FINISHED THE FOLLOW THROUGH?! and i went looking and i had like a third of this chapter already written? what is WRONG with me?
> 
> anyway, i went through a zhushed up the first 8 chapters, finished chapter 9 and am calling it a day. i know saula is real ding dong dead but i forgot how fun and campy it is to write fic for them, so whatever. emily waters out.

_Don't think we'll ever _   
_Get our differences patched _   
_Don't really matter _   
_Cuz we're perfectly matched _

**Opposites Attract - Paula Abdul**

*

"I mean, this girl is going to make us a boatload of money," Simon said. They were watching the show back. Andy was in bed already. Paula didn't really like to watch the show - she didn't like to see herself on screen, but Simon felt it was important. It helped him feel confident in what he was talking about the next week - watching in studio was so different from what appeared on the television screen. Simon had paused the Tivo on Carrie. He was studying the girl - she appeared distant and her style left something to be desired but Paula could see what Simon saw - what America saw. She was going to be a huge, huge star.

"I wish I could sing like that," Paula said.

"There's only a handful of people in the world who can sing like that," Simon commented.

"I know," she said.

"And you didn't need to have a voice like that to become a successful pop star," he said, elbowing her.

"That feels like a long time ago," she said. "Like another life."

Paula's office had the proof of that life, though. Awards, mounted records, framed magazine covers, some of the best fan letters kept in an album. It wasn't so long ago. But it felt long to Simon too - he’d never known that Paula, after all.

"Do you wish..."

"I don't wish anything different," she assured him. "Even if different was way better, I'd still want this."

"How convincing," he said.

"I just mean... you know, when I met you I thought you were some sort of punishment from a past life and now here were are in bed on a weeknight watching TV like an old married couple," she said. "That's all I meant."

"Do you... do you think about getting married?" he asked.

"I've been married and you hate the idea," she said. "So no, not a lot."

"Don't you think it's different now?"

"Different than what?"

"When two people get married there's nothing but, but the marriage to hold them together," Simon said. "Two people married aren't a family, but we are."

"Are we going to stop being a family at some point because we're not married?" she asked.

"No, but..."

"Then I don't see the point," Paula said. "Marriage is hard, Simon, it's difficult and you don't think it's going to change things, but it does and not for the better, so why rock the boat?"

Simon was baffled at this uncharacteristic side of Paula.

"Don't you want a fancy ring?" he asked. She looked up at him, away from the TV.

"If you want to buy me jewelry, buy me jewelry," she said with a smile. "I'll wear your ring if that's what you want. I'm yours already."

The comment was meant to compliment him, but it rubbed him the wrong way.

Generally, Simon and Paula got along fine. They fought less and less, almost never in front of Andy, their sex life was good, they were compatible on many levels. But sometimes Simon suspected that Paula was totally nuts. Times like when tried to force Andy into a tiny sailor suit so she could have his picture taken even though it was clear the boy did _not_ want to put the insipid outfit on. Andy was crying, kicking and screaming and Paula just patiently tried to force the little white hat on him. What kind of woman would do such a thing, Simon wondered. Or when she would obsess about what to wear, which shoes to buy, if she should cut half an inch off her hair. If she'd worn a shirt similar to the shirt she wanted to wear for a live show.

If her favorite contestant was going to be voted off. If she should have a favorite contestant.

If the dogs were getting enough attention.

If her father's health was declining too rapidly.

If they should paint the spare room a neutral color or if they should keep it how it was.

Simon had never before wanted to get married. Even when he'd been head over heels with whomever he'd been dating at the time, there was always the worry that the woman would expect marriage to follow and when that inevitably happened, the relationship fell apart. No woman would wait forever and so far no woman had. But this was the first time he'd brought up the notion of marriage first and he had not expected to be rebuffed so thoroughly.

Of course, Paula had been dragged kicking and screaming into this relationship since day one.

Simon wasn’t a worrier and didn’t like to be around anxious, worry prone people. Simon liked to be the center of attention. Simon didn’t ever make friends with the talent he worked with. Simon liked tall, much younger women.

And yet, there was something about Paula that had always made him make a sharp, unexpected turn. Something that had drawn them together that first time, something that kept him coming back to her despite her lying about her pregnancy and her mood swings and her big soft heart that she couldn’t seem to protect. He’d marry her tomorrow if she agreed. He’d make twelve more babies with her and if that didn’t work, he’d adopt them. He’d roll over backwards to make her happy and he couldn’t understand why. Neither could she. 

Show days were both old hat and complicated somehow. It was because of Andy, yes, but also now just the size of the massively popular show meant more cities in bigger venues, more security, and more insane fans. They still retained Kathryn for childcare when they were home, but they’d hired another nanny just for traveling.

Still, when Hollywood week started, Paula was glad to have Kathryn back. Simon worked into their contracts for this season trailers instead of dressing rooms. It had taken some negotiating but they’d ended up with a double wide trailer and Paula had kept her dressing room to use as a playroom for Andy and to use as extra storage for clothes and shoes. 

Ryan had seemed skeptical about the whole arrangement.

“You want to _share_? With _Cowell_?” he’d asked. “You already live with the guy. Isn’t it a little much?”

Sometimes it was, but mostly it wasn’t. She didn’t bother to explain it to Ryan, just patted his arm and said, “One day when you’re a grown up, you’ll understand.” 

She’d never worked with a spouse before, though. The whole reason that she and Emilio had called it off was that they literally never saw one another and Brad was - surprise - gay, something he hadn’t copped to until after their nuptials. 

Simon was certainly not gay. He was one hundred percent invested in sharing her bed, in fact, his desire for her over the years had hardly seemed to wane at all. Perhaps it was because it had taken them so long to get to the point where they were a real couple, on the same page about their relationship. Maybe they’d earned an extended honeymoon period. 

Her assistant came into the trailer with a quick knock, holding a garment bag across her back. It was Paula’s outfit for the first day of filming Hollywood week. She’d opted for a long sleeved mini dress, with a sparkly scoop neck. It showed a lot of leg and a little cleavage, but the long sleeves made it seem more demure than it really was and also kept her warm in a theater that had the A/C cranked up to handle all the sweaty, nervous contestants. She always froze. 

“You want me to help you into it?” the assistant asked, unsure if she should stay or not. She was new, young, and on loan because her regular girl was on maternity leave. This girl, Jenny, was at most, 19 and was strangely shy for the line of work she was in. Maybe this was her first gig, Paula didn’t know because they hadn’t spent much time chatting. 

“Um,” Paula said, glancing over to where Simon was. He was on the phone and having a heated conversation. She’d been through hair, was not yet finished with makeup. “Sure.”

They moved back toward the bedroom area of the trailer where there was a double bed and not a lot of room to navigate but there was less chance someone walking by would see her undressing through a window. Jenny lay the garment bag on the bed carefully and undid the zipper. Revealed the pretty purple dress. 

“It’s nice,” Jenny said. “That color will look good on you. What shoes do you want? I can get them from your other dressing room.”

“I have a pair of nude ones here,” Paula said. “They’ll be fine. Mostly no one sees my feet.” 

Jenny pulled the dress out, inspected it. It was on loan from the designer, it’d go back later and had to be in the same condition they’d received it. Finding nothing wrong, she nodded. Paula untied her robe. There was a time in her life, long, long ago that she’d been more self-conscious about disrobing in front of people she barely knew but touring had rid her of that and after more of her life famous than not, it was an old hat. 

She stepped into the dress and they had to work it over her hips a little. It felt tight.

“What size is this?”

“Two,” Jenny said. “Petite.” 

That should be exactly right, but when Jenny started pulling up the zipper, it stopped at the middle of her back. 

“I’ll suck in,” Paula said. “Two, my ass.”

She stood up a little taller, sucked in but she could still feel the fabric tight against her hips and the neckline cutting into the skin of her breasts. 

“Um,” Jenny said. “Maybe it’s labeled wrong?”

“Simon!” Paula called. The dress was a two, she was sure of it, she’d been the same size for years and could eyeball sizes on the hanger with the best of them. Simon came and poked his head in, holding his phone against his chest.

“What?”

“Do I look fatter to you?” she asked. “Serious question, serious answers only, please.”

“I could go…” Jenny said. 

They both ignored her, Simon looked her up and down. “No,” he said. “But your boobs look huge.” 

Paula looked down. He wasn’t wrong.

Jenny snickered said, “Maybe you’re pregnant.” 

Simon looked at her. She stared back at him. 

“Oh,” Jenny said. “I was just… um, I was kidding.” 

“What’s your name?” Simon asked, finally addressing her. 

“Jennifer, sir,” she said.

“Go find her something else to wear,” he said. “One of the spare outfits in her old dressing room and go get one of the pregnancy tests out from under the bathroom sink in there. There’s a stockpile.”

“Okay,” Jenny whispered, mortified now. 

“And don’t let anyone bloody see you with it,” he said. 

When she was gone, Paula reached around to pull down the zipper, contorting slightly and then shimmied out of the dress again. Sat on the edge of the bed in her bra and panties. 

“We stopped trying,” Paula said. “I… I stopped paying attention.” 

“How late are you?” he asked calmly.

She thought for a moment. “I guess maybe I thought… it was the change or…”

“How late?”

“Several weeks, I guess,” she said. 

He rolled his eyes. 

“Hey, I’m nearly 44,” she said. “We tried and tried, Simon.” 

“Don’t they say it doesn’t happen until you don’t want it or something?” he asked. “Maybe it’s my superior sperm.” 

“Maybe I’m just fat,” she said. “Maybe it is the change.”

“Well either way,” he said. “We’ll know soon enough.” 

Jenny brought her the test. She had to get into makeup soon or she was gonna put the whole day behind, but she went and peed on the stick and then put on slacks and a blouse from the pile of clothes Jenny had returned with. The nude heels would still work. 

The walkie-talkie at Jenny’s hip buzzed and Paula heard her own name. Jenny grabbed it and said into it, “We’ll be there in two minutes.” 

But Paula didn’t even have to wait the whole amount of time suggested by the box the test came in. When she went to check on it, it was two lines, clear as day.

oooo

Kathryn cried when they told her, she was so happy to have another baby to look after. Nigel looked like he wanted to cry and instead just hit his forehead against his desk a few times in a row. 

“You’re lucky you’re both irreplaceable, it’d be easier just to sack you and get someone else.”

“How charming,” Paula said. 

“Media loves it,” Simon said. “Plus she won’t have to hide it so much this time. We can play it up.” 

Nigel perked up. “You could get married! An Idol wedding!”

“Brilliant,” Simon said.

“No,” Paula said, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, be a sport,” Nigel said. “You’re already going to ruin my season. Remember last time? You missed the finale!”

“I was farther along then,” she said. “I’m not due until the off season.” 

“People will ask us about it,” Simon said. “Every interview, every week, every day probably.”

“Let them ask,” Paula said. “I’ll tell them what I tell you. Nope.” 

She was happy, of course, when the doctor confirmed what the at home test had said. Happy when she made it through her first trimester and got to announce it, though she was already showing by then. Happy when they altered the media and filming schedule to accommodate her, happy when the top ten would all rub her tummy before the show started for luck. 

Ecstatic when the test came back to say it was a girl. She was a high risk pregnancy at such an advanced age as Simon liked to remind her. She went to the doctor every week, kept to a strict diet, rested as much as she could with her day job. Simon, Randy, and Ryan did all the New York talk shows on their own. Paula watched them from bed, only a little wistful not to be with them. 

“How’s Paula?” asked Jay Leno.

Simon looked smug, grinned wolfishly at the audience. “Huge,” he said. “But beautiful.”

The audience awww-ed. Paula threw popcorn at her television. “Asshole,” she muttered.

“When are you going to make an honest woman of her?” Ryan asked, always the instigator.

“It’s not me!” Simon said. “It’s her. She won’t say yes!”

“Can you blame her?” Randy asked, using his thumb to point to Simon. Everyone laughed. 

“I’m a family man now,” Simon said. “I’m a different man. She’s made me… better.”

Paula’s phone rang. She answered it, sniffing.

“You watching it?” Simon asked.

“Yeah,” she said, knowing she sounded weepy.

“I did good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “You did good.” 

oooo

Simon bought her a diamond ring. It was huge and it was beautiful and he gave it to her on air during Top 3 week. Finally, the media had been talking about the show more than her and Simon. People liked Bo Bice but Carrie winning had basically been a foregone conclusion from the start to the judges and producers. She’d have to seriously misstep and throw her crown away, but there was no sign of her doing that. 

Simon and Ryan lured Paula into the situation by asking about Andy on air.

“Is he excited to be a big brother?” Ryan asked. It was the chit chat they make while the singers were changing clothes and the sets were being updated. Idle chatter.

“So excited,” Paula said. “Simon’s mother bought him all these cute Big Brother t-shirts.”

The audience cooed.

“What about you?” Ryan asked. “Have you received any gifts lately?”

She glanced at Simon, confused as to where this was going.

“Uh, no,” she said. “Why?”

“I think Simon has something for you, don’t you buddy? Something for your baby mama?”

“In fact,” he said, reaching into the pocket of his jeans, “I do, Ryan.” 

The audience began to titter with anticipation. Simon wheeled back his chair. The audience started to rumble. Simon twirled Paula to face him. The audience started growing louder.

Simon got down on one knee.

The audience lost their damn minds. 

It was all so much, the noise and the weird behavior that it took Paula a moment to see the ring. The box it was in had a little light built into the top to shine down on the stone and maximize sparkle. 

The ring was breathtaking. It was huge, it was clear, the diamond was massive, the band delicate. She immediately loved it, knew he’d done his research, talked to her family, chose what he thought she would love. 

“Paula, will you please for the love of god marry me?” Simon asked, heard only because he had a shirt mic on. They’d planned this whole display. 

Paula looked out at the screaming, some crying fans, at Ryan’s toothy grin, at Randy rolling his eyes. Back at the ring.

She plucked it out of the box, leaned in close enough to Simon so that his mic picked her up.

“Simon, honey, I told you I’d wear your ring. The rest we can talk about later.” 

She put the ring on her finger.

“Is that a yes?” Ryan asked.

“Is it?” Simon demanded. 

“It’s a we’ll see,” she said. She turned back to her own microphone, leaned in and said, “I want to hear Carrie sing. Is she ready?” 

Still she admired the ring on her hand as Ryan moved the show forward. Simon reached out, moved his mic away. Reached behind him and turned off the mic pack at his waist. Leaned into her and said, “Will I ever be enough for you?”

“You are already,” she said back. 

“Do you not like the ring?”

“Love it,” she said. “Thank you.”

“So why-”

“Later, Simon, means later. Means not now.” 

He scowled, leaned back, turned to face the stage.

oooo

Paula was trying hard not to fight about the wedding thing but Simon was relentless, would not stop to consider her point of view so finally she decided to talk to him about it in a language he could understand. 

The doorbell rang one afternoon. They weren’t filming for another few days and since Paula was getting closer to her due date, Simon worked more from home instead of going into his office downtown. She appreciated the help, appreciated that she didn’t have to have a nanny over because he was home and they could treasure these last through months as a family of three.

Andy was asleep and Simon upstairs working, so Paula hefted herself to her feet to answer the door. She was seven months along now, but any extra weight on her was a lot so she’d already hit the uncomfortable waddling stage. Lived in her yoga pants once more and had on one of Simon’s expensive, plain white t-shirts. 

She smiled at her lawyer, a woman named Kathleen. Paula had retained her for many years and considered her nearly a friend.

“I don’t usually make house calls,” she said in lieu of a greeting. 

“I don’t usually ask you to,” Paula said. “Thanks for making an exception.”

“I figured it was the only way I was ever going to see inside of this giant house.” Kathleen smiled. “The Idol finale tickets didn’t hurt.”

“They never do,” Paula said. “Come on, Simon is upstairs.” 

They walked past Andy’s closed door, past the open door to the pink nursery, mostly completed. The painters had finished painting it pink and white and they’d ordered all the furniture, but the rocking chair Paula wanted was backordered so it wasn’t quite perfect yet.

Simon’s door was closed, too. Paula only knocked as a courtesy before she pushed it open.

“Honey?” she said. “You got a second?”

He was seated behind his huge wooden desk and his face looked open and happy to see her until Kathleen followed her into the room.

“Hello,” he said uneasily.

“Kathleen Coulson,” she said, reaching out to shake his hand. “From-”

“The lawyer,” he said. “I remember, Ms. Coulson.”

“Calm down,” Paula said. “I’m not here to divorce you.”

“Well you won’t even marry me,” Simon said. 

“Ah,” Kathleen said. “Exactly why I’m here.” She set her briefcase on the edge of his desk and clicked it open, pulled out a red folder. 

“What the hell is that?” he asked.

“Our marriage contract,” Paula said.

oooo

It didn’t take that long to hammer out really. It wasn’t a terribly complex document. Kathleen had said she’d read pre-nups that were ten times as long and complex. Paula’s contract simply stated that if they made it together ten years with no one cheating or moving out, she’d make it legal. It didn’t even require them to start the clock now, they used the start date as Andy’s day of birth, which was magnanimous of Paula, she thought, since they weren’t really together then. 

Simon said they should start the clock from the first time they had sex but had been kidding, mostly. 

“And this is the only way you’ll agree to marry me?” Simon had asked later that night. He hadn’t signed it right away, had instead sent it off to his lawyer to look it over. She’d expected nothing less. 

“I just want to be sure,” Paula said. “And by then, we’ll both be so old no one else will want us.” She smiled as she kissed him.

In the end, they both signed it. Took Andy with them down to Kathleen’s office and signed it. They had it notarized as well. 

“You’re batshit crazy, you know that?” Simon said tossing the pen back onto the desk after he’d signed it.

“Daddy said a bad word,” Andy said.

“Get used to it buddy,” Paula said. 

oooo

At the Idol finale, Ryan pointed out that Paula was still wearing her ring. 

“Yes,” Paula said from the audience of the theater. Someone had given all the judges hand held microphones and she spoke into hers now, her left hand resting on her belly, the ring sparkling in the spotlight. “We’re engaged.”

The theater erupted into applause. 

“She said yes?” Ryan asked. Simon leaned into Paula’s mic.

“She said yes,” he said. “Finally.”

“That’s amazing, congratulations!” Ryan said. “When’s the big day?”

Paula smiled at Simon, brought the microphone back to her lips and said, very sweetly, “Oh, he’s contractually obligated not to talk about that, Ryan.” 

Simon pantomimed zipping his mouth closed and throwing away a key.

“Seriously?” Ryan asked. “You two are the worst.”

oooo

Paula woke up on the morning of Andy’s tenth birthday and looked over at the man sleeping next to her. They had a huge birthday party planned for the day; she could already hear movement downstairs. No doubt her assistant had let her party planner in before the sun even came up. She’d go down and check in on things, take the kids out for breakfast, maybe, so they could be out of the way.

But first things first. It was time to uphold her end of the bargain.

She leaned over to the nightstand for her phone. Scrolled through her contact list for a number she’d put in a long time ago. Got up, put on her robe and stepped onto the sun filled balcony attached to their master bedroom and shut the french doors behind her. 

Took a deep breath and called the wedding planner.


End file.
